Seems like my life really hasn't changed that much in the past 6 years...Here is a poem I wrote in March 2000, clearly about one of my daughters pitching a fit (and for the record, they were 8 at the time). We've had discussions about who it's about. I think it was A...that would have been typical of her at the time. Now it would be about E.
How Could She?
By Leslie Butler
I refused to look at her
She plopped herself onto the ground
Beginning to cry, but not making any sounds
I didn’t see her lips starting to quiver
She’s now full-length on the floor
Screams coming louder
I don’t see her mouth contorted
In screams and sobs
She begins to kick her feet
Screaming even louder
Still I refuse to look at her
Knowing the snot is oozing down her nose
Probably even dripping into her mouth
As her arms begin to flail
And she screams even louder
I know that her eyes are red and puffy
Tears popping out one at a time at a rapid pace
But then she says
“Mommy please hold me”
And how could I not?
No matter what she did
Then I couldn’t be mad at her
I was and I will
But not then.
2 comments:
That sounds like the 'fits' Carolyn used to throw when she was little.
Bryan tried them also and Merle threw cold water on him and he jumped up and ran to his room. Guess they all try it sometime or another. Mom
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