Autobiography of a Baby

They pull my cheeks

And pinch my nose

They make funny faces

And tickle my toes

They baby talk

When they can speak!

I want to hide my face

When walked down the street

'Goo goo', 'Ga Ga' is all I know

Still I'm expected to put on a show

Where is your nose? And where are your ears?

I can't take this silliness anymore

I think up of ridiculously simple ways to repel

I fart, burp, throw up and poop

I give my best to stink up the joint

This should put an end to all the 'coochie coo'

Some days are bad

While some are worse

Itchiness, anger, sleep deprivation

Makes me want to let loose

I know I'm adorable

That's stating the obvious

Still doesn't make it okay

To create a mighty stupid fuss

I know it's my birthday

And I will turn one

But stuffing me in velvet and lace

Is not my idea of fun

It's bad enough you committed a fashion faux passé

Now I'm passed from hand to hand

Trust me when I tell you

Babyhood is not all that grand!

I would be a billionaire if I was paid

Every time someone said

'Show me where your feet are

And where is your head'

What do you know?

It's a lot of work to look this darn cute

I put up with oily massages and hot baths

And rigorous powdering and fluffing up too

But I'll let you in on a secret

This one is no lie

Though I hate being a baby

I love being the apple of your eye!