I can’t understand parents like you.
If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do?
My face flushes red. I’m not really sure.
It’s certainly different from my life before.
I drive trains and buses, trucks and cars,
Build my own spaceships and fly to the stars.
I scrub and wipe and pick up blocks,
Wash shirts and pants and piles of socks.
I’m a tiger, a frog, a monkey, a goat.
I sail away in a pea green boat.
I make meals and snacks; most earnest of cooks.
Read hundreds and thousands and millions of books.
I sing and I dance and I play the drum,
I answer every “What’s this, Mum?”
I do the shopping, unpack it on shelves,
(With “help” from two mischievous elves!)
I walk to the park and push the swings,
And supervise all of the trickier things.
I’m a doctor with special first aid supplies;
Kisses and cuddles and drying of eyes.
I splash in water, make castles in sand,
My artistic skills are in high demand.
I clean and dress as little ones wriggle.
I smile and sigh and grumble and giggle.
And when night time falls after all of this;
I seal the day with a goodnight kiss.