Now that I’m five, I can choose what I wear,
Clean my own teeth, decorate my own hair.
My style is my own and I couldn’t care less,
If you don’t think my wellies match this summer dress.
Now that I’m five, I can pour my own drink.
And if you do it first, I will kick up a stink.
Don’t you know that I’m FIVE and can do it alone?
I’m not a baby, look how much I’ve grown.
Now that I’m five, I can jut out my hip.
Wrenching my hand from your desperate grip.
You try to take over, but I know what to do.
I can make it myself without guidance from you.
But . . .
Though I want to see every place on the map,
I don’t want to give up my space on your lap.
Whilst I want you to leave me to climb high and tall,
I need you to be there to catch if I fall.
And maybe you could help if I get in a muddle.
Plus, when I am sleepy, I might need a cuddle.
I still want to creep to your bed in the night.
And run to your arms if I’m given a fright.
And I know that sometimes your patience I test,
But in the whole wide world, I still love you best.
So, even though I’m five, I was wondering maybe –
Could I be a big girl, but still be your baby?
Emma Robinson 2016
Motherhood for Slackers 