My mom knows how to get mud stains out of my clothes,
She also has a sensor that knows when to wipe my nose,
But now I have to tell her that she really blows
At counting Ė one, two, three.
Mom is sure that two cookies will fill my tummy up,
But once I ate thirteen more with milk in my cup.
Then she piled the veggies high and expected me to sup,
Confusing Ė least to me.
When June has come, she grows worse now that the summerís here.
Water bombs on trampolines bring her two steps too near.
And she insists that one small snake is not a pet so dear,
One only Ė it canít be.
On rainy days she just canít count the short time that I sit,
And watch TV or play vid games because she has a fit.
ďTurn that off, youíve watched all day,Ē but itís too soon to quit,
Just started Ė woe is me.
Not food, not steps, not pets nor shows, the numbers she canít do.
Now she claims these months are long and school has grown short too.
And when two pals plus me go play, she screams itís like a zoo,
Her errors, she canít see.
My mom is sweet and she smells nice, her chicken is so good.
But maybe when school starts again, go back to class she should,
And learn to measure, count and add Ė some homework if she could.
It might help Ė one, two, three.
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