We have a medical mystery that has stumped our family
physician;
Our children all seem to be afflicted with this
recurring condition.
We have tried different foods as recommended by our
dietician;
And consulted a French professor – the world’s
leading paediatrician.
But still no-one can solve the mystery of what
happens after we eat;
Our children are quite normal, until we mention
that dinner’s not complete
Until the dishwasher’s packed, the table’s wiped
and the kitchen is all done;
That is the moment when this strange sickness
overcomes every single one.
The disorder takes a number of forms, and changes
every single night;
Which is why, I am guessing, it is so hard, to
solve our unhappy plight.
The first symptom is predictable – someone’s
busting to go to the loo;
Although they never seem quite sure if they need to
do a wee or a poo.
One daughter says, “I need more food!” to satisfy
her growing appetite;
Surely, as good parents, we wouldn’t want her to be
hungry through the night?
Our youngest daughter falls asleep at the table –
to help digest her food?
We dare not risk waking her and experiencing her
sleep deprived mood!
But still the problems continue, with apparently
the teacher to blame;
“My teacher said I had to finish my homework,” I hear
one child exclaim.
Sweaty armpits is the next culprit, as I hear
another call “SHOWER!”
The perspiration must have been bad! We don’t see
her for the next hour!
My son starts sweating and convulsing – his vital
signs start to diminish
“Please take me to my video game – I just have this
level to finish!”
That takes care of the most common symptoms, but
still they come up with others;
My daughter wants to upload a selfie so her friends
can show their brothers.
“My favourite TV show is on; I wouldn’t dare think
of missing it.”
Next there is a disaster to manage – the emergence
of a big zit.
“A glass of milk helps my growing bones”, “I need
to take the dog for a run”;
“I have heard that it is important for kids to
relax and have some fun!”
They have been quite creative with more excuses
than a politician,
The kitchen is now deserted – they have vanished
faster than a magician.
This scene is repeated every night – I am not sure
if my wife can cope;
First one legitimate excuse has now led us down
this slippery slope.
I wonder how this developed. Is it learned or is it
genetic?
I think we need more research on this – or am I
just being pathetic?
“At least my husband will help,” says my wife, “otherwise
I’ll be here all night.”
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I promise, “I just…have
this poem…to write.”