Helpful Hands
I’m folding up the laundry pile,
(It should take half an hour.)
But little hands jump in to help—
Now socks rain down like shower.
I’m stirring up spaghetti sauce,
The pot is nearly done,
He grabs a spoon to “help me stir”
And splatters everyone.
The garden needs a gentle touch,
I plant the seeds with care…
He digs them up to “check they’re safe”
And scatters dirt midair.
I sweep the floor, he takes the broom,
His motions broad and wild;
Instead of crumbs, he sweeps my feet—
But oh, he beams and smiled.
And though my chores now take all day,
And mess grows more than less…
I wouldn’t trade these “helpful hands”
For all the world’s success.
Assistance, My Foot
“I’ll help you, Mom!” he sweetly chirps,
then grabs the broom in glee.
Five seconds in—he’s whacked my shin,
and swept the cat’s food free.
He “helps” me with the dinner prep,
by cracking eggs—six, SPLAT!
He beams with pride while I just cry,
and wipe yolk off the cat.
He offers help with fixing things,
(“I’m VERY good with tape!”)
Now every drawer is sealed shut,
and lamps are dressed in drape.
He “helps” with laundry—thanks a lot!
Now shirts are in the sink.
The dryer holds three Lego men
who’re having quite a stink.
Dear child, your help’s a hurricane
with sneakers and a grin—
If this is help, then heaven knows
what chaos looks like when you win.