I heard your comments on a recent broadcast about your living room being a “toy box” when Deryk was little. I remembered this poem I crossed-stitched into a wall hanging a long time ago that I thought you would appreciate. – Amy
“Excuse This House”
Some houses try to hide the fact
That children shelter there,
Ours boasts it quite openly,
The signs are everywhere.
For smears are on the windows,
Little smudges are on the doors
I should apologize, I guess
For toys strew on the floor.
But I sat down with my child
And we played and laughed and read
And if the doorbell doesn’t shine,
His eyes will shine instead.
For when at times I’m forced to choose
The one job or the other,
I’d like to cook and clean and scrub,
But first I’ll be a mother.