Handprints on cupboards
and shoes in the hall.
Toilet seat's up and there's
mud on the wall.
Every sports channel to
them will appeal,
And the front room doubles
as a football field.
The shelves in the kitchen
are continually bare.
There's toys on the couch
and jeans on the chair.
Wrestling and mud and
cars and noise;
I'm sure you can guess I'm
the MOTHER of a boy!
Poem written by Patsy Gaut, minimally changed by yours truly.
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