Cooking and cleaning can wait till tomorrow,
For babies grow up, we've learned to our sorrow.
So settle down cobwebs, dust go to sleep,
I'm nursing my baby and babies don't keep.
~Anonymous
(Yes siree, these really are my boy's feet. You want to eat them, don't you?)
2 comments:
I love that poem. It always hung in my mom's house growing up. I still think of it today. It is so true.
I want to make a needlepoint or something with this poem on it! It needs to stay in the front of my brain before I blink and my babies are all grown up! :(
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