pomes

I follow her back, crawling up the stairs,
Her straight little spine and her shoulderblades
(I never knew shoulders could be so small)

I follow her bottom, up the steps
Her strong thighs as big as my own biceps
(I never knew babies could grow so tall)

I follow her hands, climbing up the gate
Her sure baby feet standing firm and straight
(I never knew anything - anything at all)

The firsts are fun, and sweet, and proud -
But second time round - Oh, second time round -

She's worn her first toothbrush down to a stub,
And her first shoes are lying outgrown on the rug,
And her first highchair's unused, discarded, upstairs -
Because she's sitting now in great grown-up-girl chairs.

Her first socks were tiny, and sweet, and petite -
Her second show she's got her mother's big feet.
Her first coat was fragile and soft and so warm-
Her second coat's strong enough to come to no harm.

The first are adorable. The seconds are cold -
My baby girl proving that she's getting old -
She's bigger and stronger, not practising now -
She needs all the seconds because she knows how.

A real fork with prongs and a real metal spoon
And real grown-up dinner and a real grown-up room
A real grown-up walk to the real grown-up shops
And a real baby cuddle when the growing-up stops.

I need no sleep! I wide awake!
I run to give! I dash to take!
I crawl and tickle, shout and sing -
I do all and any thing!

I stamp my feet! I stamp your hands!
I climb all over Mammy-land!
I bounce and jog! I laugh and shout!
I play on swing! I go late out!

It's only nine! It's only ten!
It's not time for bed again!
It's not eleven, it's only twelve!
I stay up - go bed yourselves!

I climb a chair! I climb a table!
I climb a thing I wasn't able!
I run in circles, I fall down -
I want to go to bed right now!

To use a fork,
Take the fork in your right hand,
And the food in your left hand,
And carefully place the food
On the prongs of the fork.

You may have to ask Daddy
To push the food all the way on
If it's particularly stiff.

(Sometimes by accident
randomised stabbing
spears a potato
on the fork's prongs.
Then there's a frantic
chewing and swallowing
to empty the mouth
for the spuddies' swansong).

I am One, and what can I do?
I say Hiya, wave bye-bye too -
I can walk, I can run, I can dance, I can sing -
I am One, and I can do anything.

I am One, and what can I say?
With my hands I can say "Milk" ok,
And "Drink", "food" and "bye-bye" as you already know -
They half-dread the day that I learn "Uh-oh."

I am One, and what can I talk?
I can talk Didi drinking, Mama while I walk
To find milkness and cuddles and all things sublime -
I say Hiya and Dada and Eeeeh. I say Mine.

I am One, though you'd never have known -
I've started off big and I've grown,
And in terms of destructiveness, cuteness and poo
I'm at least 18 months. I may even be Two.

Siddown! You're getting into that buggy!
Siddown! We have got to get gone!
We're ten minutes late, already -
Siddown! I have things to get done!

Get up! You can't sit on the footpath!
Get up! You can't climb on that chair!
I don't have the time to play bloodbath -
Get up! You've just sat on my hair!

Siddown! I am putting your socks on.
Siddown! Now we need to be quiet.
The library is meant for reading.
Siddown! You are starting a riot!

Get up, darling, come over to mama.
Sit down, love, and we'll have a hug.
I don't mean to go so bananas -
Lie down, for a rug-snuggle-bug.

I'm climbing up to where it's at
I'm going to be cool
It's boring down here on my own...
I'm going to fetch a stool.

The action's all much higher up
It's happenin', up there -
I can't quite reach the lofty peak -
I'm going to fetch a chair.

It's easier when they're down here,
With games and toys and fun -
I like to play "Stand on your Mam"
And "Run, my puss-cat, run!"

But sometimes they perch higher up
As high up as the sofa
And then I need to stretch and climb
And drag a step-stool over.

Hi! It's me! I'm here! Didja miss me?

Peek-a-boo, I see you!
Peek-a-boo, you see me!
Peek-a-boo, I see you!
Peek-a-boo, where can she be?

She's a very tiny baby,
And she doesn't walk or crawl,
But she cannot find her Mammy -
In fact, she can't see at all!

She's hiding in the duvet,
She dropped her face down fast
And Mammy hasn't found her -
Oh! she's coming out at last!

Peek-a-boo, I see you!
Peek-a-boo, you see me!
Peek-a-boo, I see you!
Peek-a-boo, where can she be?

---

Drop down, peep up, laugh out loud:
That's the way to draw the crowd!
Drop down, peep up, if you're able -
But don't try this upon the table.

The bed is very large
And the table's very flat
But the primary resemblances
Seem to end at that.

The bed is very soft,
And the table's all of wood,
And to drop down on the table
Doesn't feel so very good.

Drop down on the bed, my love,
And hide your face in feather
And we'll avoid the table 'til
Your bruises are all better.

Daddy walks out the door and turns and smiles
So she waves bye-bye Daddy
Then she walks out the door to him
Carefully carefully down the sill
And confident, sure, to the kerb
And down again carefully, across the road
And all along the street we go -
Hippetty hoppitty hippetty hop!

Stopping for chewing gum stuck to the path
And interesting bricks in the walls
And cigarette butts all covered in grass
And even occasional falls.

So adult and baby and grown-up and young
And it's hard to believe that soon she will be one.

Month by month she's growing up:
Walking shoes and sippy cup.
Highchair, cot with lowered base,
Calloused knees and safety gates,
Teething ring and baby gym,
Spoons for spooning solids in.

First cry, first smile, first laugh, first noise,
First clothes, first grasp, first book, first toys,
First time of sickness, first getting well,
First startle, first small tale to tell -
First change, first bath, first swimming pool,
First love, first kiss, first day at school,
First noon, first midnight, first day of rest,
First girl is first at being best.