Paddy at Five
Why the piles of little clothes?
Why the death-trap toys on stairs?
Why the toothpaste smudged around?
Why the crayoned furniture?
Here?s the reason.
Here?s my son.
The son I didn?t know I?d have.
I thought I?d stopped with two big girls
And then he came and changed it all.
Back to nappies,
Back to feeds.
Back to screaming sleepless nights.
Folding pushchair in the boot.
Sloppy shirts and sagging flesh.
Balamory, Postman Pat,
Making jellies, cutting crusts.
Swishing bubbles in the bath
Back to shop at Toys R Us.
Building snowmen, kissing bumps,
Helping Daddy check the car.
Swings and slides and help with buttons.
Building train tracks on the floor.
Today he blew five candles out
And coloured paper filled the room
He handed round the chocolate box
And put the cards upon the shelf.
I look at him and see the teen
Who?ll one day scare me half to death
With motorbikes and all-night raves
When hormones win a race with brains.
But then he smiles and jumps on me.
Puts little arms around my neck
And thanks me in excited voice.
?I love you mummy ? you?re the best!?
And if my patience gets too thin
With adolescent twists and turns
I?ll think of him at five years old
Suffused with optimistic joy.
The little boy who climbed in bed
And wriggled mid his mum and dad
Reminding them of years before
When love began the seed of him.
The happy sounds of brand new bike
With daddy teaching him to ride
Enthusiasm on his face
The simple joy of being alive.
The simple joy of being five.