Tag Archives: Children

Dear Oldest Child:

Sometimes when mommy’s frisky

And dad’s not watching porn

They send you on a playdate

And another kid is born.

This new kid is a baby,

Just a lump of hungry fat

That cries and poops and sleeps a lot

And not much more than that.

Luckily for the species

But not luckily for you

That baby will get bigger

And eventually turn two.

At this point, the parents

Who loved you when you were little

Will downgrade you, unknowingly,

To the meanest second fiddle.

They’ll love all over new kid

Because, sadly, the fact is

As the oldest child you are

The one on which they’ll practice.

You will need to get straight A’s…

New kid will soar on C’s.

You will beg for any love…

New kid will just say “please.”

Yes, this seems unfair to you

But someday you will see

That this kid turns invisible

When mom has baby 3.

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It All Makes Sense Now…

Doctors say lots of children

Have ADHD

And would sit all day long

Just to watch some TV

But instead they must go

To be receive state education

In a room full of bullies

And other frustration.

We do this to children

Because they must learn

About how they can focus

Until they adjourn

As good reborn children

Instead of mere scamps,

Thus why schools should be called

“Concentration camps.”

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Plus The One About Chocolate Slaves Murdering Lottery Winners For Their Zany CEO’s Amusement…

Children’s books today address

Bullying and gender

And how to make vegan, non-fat,

Pastrami in a blender.

Children’s books in my day

Were like “Bears go to the beach,”

And “Here’s a story ’bout some kid

“With an enormous peach.”

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All Keys Are Equal, But Some Are More Equal Than Others

I asked my mom, the keyboard,

Who her favorite child was.

She said, “I have no favorite

“And the reason is because

“I love all my kids the same.

“They’re all precious to me.”

And everyone believed her

Except the right “SHIFT” key.

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E I E Ya Know?

Why are classic songs just like,

“Songs just like,

“Songs just like?”

Why are classic songs just like

Repetitive and s**t?

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Morning People

The sky was cool and starry blue,

The Earth a pool of morning dew,

Abuzz with life of every shape,

From bug to bird to dog to ape.

One bit of life upon the Earth

Was a normal child of human birth

Who’d celebrate each dawning day

With the joyous sound of childish play.

He was no bird; He could not fly,

And yet he was intent to try.

He’d leap from couch to bed to floor

Until his muscles flew no more.

He was no bug; He could not crawl

Upon a roof or stalwart wall,

But in the calm before the dawn

He, undeterred, would skitter on.

He was no dog; He could not bark,

But made his home a sort of park

In which to howl in youthful glee

In the apartment above me.

He was no ape; He ought to know

His acts impact the room below.

I smell his breakfast on the breeze:

Bacon, toast, and antifreeze…

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Be Like The Index Toe

If you don’t eat roast beef

You’ll do all right.

If you have none

There’s no need to fight.

If you go to market

You’re fine by me

But it’s best to stay home

And go “wee wee wee wee.”

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The Rest Is How To Playjurize Wikipedia Without Getting Cot

Ten persent of school

Is lurning how to get along.

Forty-two persent

Is lurning that you spelled stuph rong.

Maybe five persent

Is how to fill your plate and cup.

The other eighty-five persent

Is how to add things up.

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Baby’s First Gangsta Rap

I hit my brother

And hit my mother.

It was not okay.

They said “Don’t hit.”

I said “No shit”

And hit them anyway.

Cops saw the fight,

Turned on their light,

And hit me in the gut.

So hitting’s okay

With the government’s say?

And I was all like “Wut?”

I hit the cop

And hit my pop

With my inflatable hammer.

They cuffed my wrists

To stop my fists

And shut me in the slammer.

I was in jail

‘Cause no one paid bail

And was charged in juvenile court.

I can’t write a sentence

But I’ll attempt repentance

And maybe build a fort.

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Post-Holiday Pleasures

What’s most nearly opposite

To gently falling rain,

Your lover’s gentle heartbeat,

And comfort of the brain?

The answer starts with “Someone”

And ends with “Else’s baby on a plane.”

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