This morning I woke up, a bounce in my step,
There’s nothing can spoil this day for me, I bet!
I bound out of bed, arms wide, greet the sun,
Because my youngest child just learned to wipe her own bum!
Goodbye bum-wiping, goodbye forever!
Don’t ask me to wipe a bum, please, I will never!
Yesterday it struck her, that she could just try…
And eureka! She did it! I almost could cry!
It’s been years in the trenches, I can still hear the sound
Of “MOM! WIPE MY BUM!”… Echoing round…
Those moments you have to stop all that you’re doing,
Wait outside the bathroom while your child is pooing,
No more listening for the sound of the grunting and groaning,
To be done and to know that a wiping is owing,
No more asking her to try it, with hope in my voice,
And to have her refuse ’cause she’s holding two toys,
So I’d do it myself and I’d wash our four hands,
Then go back to my coffee, which now looked less grand,
And wait for the next time, the next number two,
But no more, my friends — my wipe-days are through!
I love my child, truly, but I have better plans,
Plans for new projects for my “wipe-retired” hands,
I know they’ll be wiping noses still, and dirty faces too,
But I’d take snot, food and dirt any day, over poo.
And so today you might see a new skip in my step,
An extra chin in my grin, renewed vigour and pep!
Because there is so much, I know, from these days that I’ll miss,
But I can say with confidence: I will not miss THIS.