An ode to bedtime... my poor excuse for a poem.

My "attempt" at poetry! Robert Frost I am not!
Bedtime is always such a struggle with my oldest (Jack, almost 4) I feel like I win the "battle of all battles" every night. I deserve a medal. Why is it always so hard to get a little child to bed?



Finally, here I sit,
I am alone at last.
The screams have ended,
The debates are past.

Bedtime did come,
I feared it would not.
I hoped for one book
But for eight I got took.

Elmo is on the potty,
Thomas is in the yard
Would it really be bad
If I said “kiss my arse?”

I do not want to read
About the kitty in the well
I do not care at all
If she were pushed, or she fell.

But enough! Slumber is upon us
And as the day declines
I am finally alone
If I don’t count three sleeping felines!