(Such fun, the adults' terror).
I'm never certain what will fit:
My method's trial and error.
They say the stones I feed down drains
Will cause these to be blocked.
And (believe me) coins in keyholes,
Mean the door can't be unlocked.
The tests I've done on yoghurt
Show how far it can be spread -
To the sofa, walls and curtains,
And there's still some for my head.
There's a way of getting chocolate:
Look appealing and say, "P'ease",
My G'anny can't resist this,
(Though she sometimes offers cheese).
|It just fell apart in my hands|
They're not my fault, hand on heart.
Some items clearly aren't well made
And simply fall apart.
Grown-ups might take "forty winks"
Whilst sitting on the couch.
I DO NOT PERMIT THIS PRACTICE,
When I wake them, they say, "Ouch!"
(I've tried shouting when they're dozing off,
Their eyelids barely flicker.
I resort to the effective way -
A head butt's always quicker).
There's this concept known as sharing stuff,
And that would work out fine,
If my sister would remember
What I'm playing with is MINE.
They tell me to stop doing things,
The instant I get started,
But I carry on regardless
And refuse to be down-hearted.
"Watch out," they cry, "Be careful!"
(Like I'm not that self-assured),
But despite these sad restrictions,
I am never ever bored.
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|Battle for the mixer about to commence|