From birth to one it’s not so fun:
The diapers, spit-ups, nose that run,
The cries of hunger in the night;
Dawn comes too soon and shines its light.
The hands so quick to danger cling;
The feet that trample everything;
The mouth that lubricates with drool;
The teething pains which are not cool.
Our hope for them in days to come:
That they in silence suck their thumbs,
And quiet will the evening keep
So through a night we soundly sleep.
From one to three the child is free
To roll and crawl and smile with glee;
We lock the doors and cab’nets, too
In fear of what our child might do.
We watch the steps so they don’t fall;
We tell them not to write on walls;
All fragile things we keep from reach;
There is no end to all we teach.
Our hope for them in months to pass
Is that they learn the potty fast:
For changing diapers gets real old,
And makes a dent in our billfold.
From three to five they’re so alive--
We wonder how they all survive.
In troubles near and troubles far,
We always wonder where they are.
By now they speak the strangest things,
And laughter makes our proud hearts sing.
They still are small and like our laps
And often in our arms take naps.
Our hope is that they learn to read
So that in school they will succeed.
For years we’ve been their greatest friends--
We hope this closeness never ends.
From five until they finish school
We try to lead with loving rule,
And as they grow, increase in age,
Our tough love enters center stage.
We disagree and sometimes fight;
We want our child to turn out right.
Though only youths they know what’s best,
And put our patience to the test.
Our hope for them throughout these years
Is that they understand our fears,
And though at times we may speak strong,
We have to teach them right from wrong.
From school to spouse to kids one day,
We always hope and steadfast pray
That choices made are for the good,
And that they’ll serve God as they should;
And may their lives have no regret,
And they their parents not forget:
We gave our all through many years--
Sometimes in sleepless nights with tears.
Our hope for them while life shall last
Is that they’re thankful for their past,
And one day seeing through our eyes,
Believe that Dad and Mom were wise.
Thad R. Hobson