I’m so sorry for the troubles I caused,
Running amuck in department stores,
Weaving through clothes racks, playing hide-n-seek,
While a search party searched the perimeter for an infamous escapee,
Ignorant of my little game.

I’m so sorry for the embarrassment I presented,
Crying spells, bouts of anger, daily temper tantrums,
All uncalled for actions when I failed to
Attain the creamy-white shoes or chocolaty candy I desired.
Seldom, we ventured out because,
Eyes were constantly fixed on our family
And people mumbled under their breaths;
I was a disturbance to society.

I’m so sorry for my difficulties,
Especially when I took medicine.
Family members kindly volunteered to hold me down,
Force my mouth open, pinch my nostrils
Just so I could sallow the grape-flavoured syrup.
But instead, I vomited the syrup across the tiled floor.

I’m so sorry for inducing fears from my incidents:
Jumping out of moving vehicles,
Climbing out of my crib,
Not eating or drinking,
Refusing to go to the restroom.
Did I have a reasonable explanation, no.

I’m so sorry for all the anxiety
In your first years of parenthood.
I’m sorry for causing you to cry
And doubt your parenting skills.
I’m so sorry for the headaches and heartaches,
Often you prayed for God to send a miracle.

But as I head to college,
As I prepare for the real-world,
As I take my first steps without you,
As I begin life as an adult,
It happened that, I turned out fine.