The story of things fitting and not fitting

THE STORY OF THINGS FITTING AND NOT FITTING

(A baby starts this merry tale,
who'd sometimes smile and sometimes wail.)

I fed on milk both day and night.
I'd spit a bread crust from my tongue,
knowing I was much too young
for sandwiches – milk was just right.

But if you asked me now, today,
to try that mummy-milk again
the idea would meet with disdain;
I'd swiftly answer you: 'No way!'

I used to wear my daddy's shoes,
which made us laugh – I was too small
or they too big to fit at all
… but these days I would make the news

if I could fit my feet in those
I used to toddle in when first
I learnt to walk. I'd make them burst.
We live, we grow. We cannot choose.

I MINDED that I couldn't do it,
climbing in the driver's seat,
the pedals so far from my feet,
which now go to the floor – and through it!

The pegs were high! Then Dad was kind
and put one lower, so we each
had coats on pegs that we could reach
– a 'downsizing' I didn't mind.

And, chatting, I found out that Mum
expected I would one day go
and live somewhere she didn't know.
She said she KNEW the day would come!

She told me everyone will get
a home their mum and dad don't share.
I didn't listen, didn't care!
I knew I wasn't ready yet.

Yet I've done what she said I would.
– eat solids – cook them! – drive a car,
wear grown-up shoes … and I am far
from needing to live with Mum for good.

The best bit is that now I'M Dad!
I've seen you grow, and crawl then walk
and climb, and you began to talk
and now won't stop! And I am glad.

At each age there's a size to fit
whatever the need.
And now – that's it.