Hand prints trail along the wall,
The juice on the table, of course did fall,

Tiny toy cars and plastic dolls,
Toys completely litter the floor,
And it continues to search for more,

It doesn’t see me when I stare,
No, wait, its more like a glare,

Pots and pans clank around,
Yet the Tot doesn’t seem to care for now,

It’s socks wiggle out of a sea of building blocks,
Like a snake when it slithers through rocks,

The floor is sticky,
It’s really quite icky,
This kid is seriously ticking me off.

And I stand there on the now stained mat,
Of course this was done by the brat.