“As a toddler, when he was in the room no window was safe, no vase was too high, and no remote existed which couldn’t be disassembled. A total joy!“

So proud I am of my first son.
	My girl's as sweet as any come.
For laughs, though, it's my youngest one
	Who entertains the family.

He doesn't like that he was last
	To join our group, and for the past
Three years has tried to catch up fast.
	Dear God, I wish he wouldn't.

An imp who meets me at the door,
	And pulls me down onto the floor,
And with disarming smile implores,
	"Hey Dad, why don't we wrestle?"

In soccer shoes and baseball hat,
	A numbered shirt that doesn't match,
I love it when he says, "Lets bat!"
	Of course, I can't refuse him.

When he colors on the wall,
	Or breaks a window with a ball,
My anger leaves me when he calls,
	"Sorry, Dad... I love you!"

Mischief? Yes, a rascal true,
	But with a spirit given few,
A muscled boy with not a clue
	Of what is meant by 'gentle'.

Embracing life with energy
	That has no bounds, it seems to me.
From dawn 'til dusk he tends to be
	A constant moving target.

But, finally, at the end of day,
	As in his bed he, soundless, lays,
I watch... and to myself then say,
	"E A, you sure are lucky!"