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Some days I need to slow down and remember this poignant poem. I constantly ache that this phase of life is over much too quickly. Just yesterday, I swear to you, the Bigger Little Miss was a teensy, helpless little thing and today she was putting on a solo performance on the Barnes & Noble stage in the children’s area jumping and leaping and singing and dancing.
The days are so long and hard sometimes but then you blink and this little person before you seems so much bigger and less dependent all of a sudden and your heart aches for just one more lazy day spent nursing on the sofa with her tiny body pressed against yours.
Song for a Fifth Child
Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Mother, oh mother, come shake out your cloth!
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!
Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby, loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.)
Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby. Babies don’t keep.