To you the parents who think it's bad,
Struggling through the terrible two's,
Trust me, for this you'll be glad,
Don't even think about crying boohoo.
The age to save for the tears,
Is the dreaded number eleven.
But that's what, in nine years?
Yes, but to keep your place in heaven,
You must pray now, to rid your fears.
Pray even when things are pleasant.
This horrific pubescent age,
Will push your patience.
It will evoke an inner rage.
It will disrupt the household cadence.
Now that I have been through three,
And I'm hanging on by a string,
I can say with absolutely certainty,
Eleven year olds...are not for a weakling!
~SS
10/27/17
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Author:
SunSearcher (
Offline) - Published: October 27th, 2017 08:24
- Category: Family
- Views: 31
Offline)
Comments1
Great poem!! My boy wasn't bad at that age but I dread my daughter getting there! LOL Hang in there, SS!
Middle boy was and now youngest (which is a girl) is there...both absolutely unbearable lol. Oldest wasn't too bad at 11, but boy have the other 2 made up for it!
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