“A coup,” then, “goo, ah-choo, haiku;”

Not sure if he’s speaking to you.


Gnawing, gnashing, nosing, knee-slapping;

Then, suddenly out of nowhere he’s clapping.


Inconceivable, incomprehensible, a bunch of gabble;

But remember – baby’s must babble.


Dirty diapers, tears, more than one sleepless night,

But you cannot despise him when you take in the sight.

Once again, I’d be happy to discuss the poem. [But I’ll give you a hint: it’s the terrible twos.]

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