My son has a mean left hook.
He's not a boxer, just a toddler.
He is overtired from being sick
And from cutting canines.
There are bursts of joy now and then
He has a great giggle.
He talks to me all the way home from work. I understand very third word.
He sings silly, nonsense songs and quotes clips from Elmo.
But tonight I needed a break.
His mood swings were insane.
The highs seemed too high and the lows seemed lower than normal.
My beautiful son seems more like an alien and less like the affectionate little guy who loves all things chicken.
I scolded him for standing in a chair this evening because he might fall and then he did.
When he got up he looked at me like I pushed him down.
Seconds before bed, my son hit me with a left hook.
Maybe he is going to be a boxer one day.
A crazed, boxing toddler man with a chicken side kick who loves Elmo.
Yeah, I see it.
Single parenthood, there are no bells rung to give you a break. You demand your soft touches for you and the people he hurts.
I need to wrap myself in bubble wrap. STAT