I look forward to the chicken noodle soup,
The bedtime stories causing eyes to droop.
Their laughter will fill the house with such joy,
I want one of each, a girl and a boy.
I look forward to their little baby talk,
The crawling, the giggling, the eating of chalk.
The way they’ll see through innocent eyes,
And never understand a single goodbye.
I look forward to their first little word,
The weaving of sounds trying to be heard.
And then there will be the first time they stand,
Their toes all curled up, an outstretched pink hand.
The first steps will come one at a time,
Stumbling and bumbling and trying to climb.
I look forward to all the love they’ll inject,
The chaos of childhood, the house looking wrecked.
The first little scrape on their knees when they fall,
A Scooby Doo bandaid to make them feel tall.
I even look forward to the crying at night,
The spitting of food when it don’t taste quite right.
I can handle some vomit and that thing they call croup,
But what I fear most is that gooey green poop.