“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.]