Growing pains

August 14, 2011
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You see the bottle
And cry out in fury.
Mother runs to you robotically.
Her set schedule is to
Feed, change, feed, sleep.
Her warm embrace even better
As the bottle tilts to your tender lips.
The milk is drained fast
thanks to your vicious appetite.
I’m jealous of the royal
Treatment I no longer get.
(Am I no longer her son?)
So I plot my revenge
To over throw you out of your kingdom.
I climb the walls or crib
And land silently next to your
Sitting there frozen in awe,
I watch you wander to dream land.
You flash a satisfied smile in my direction
melting my malice.
(The checkmate to my plans)
I carefully climb down the crib and
Say, “Goodnight baby sister.”

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