My handsome nephew grows and learns
Frustrated, peeved and smart by turns
Take breakfast, which he eats with Dad,
He fiddles with his food, gets mad -
When told that time is on the wing
As Daddy's patience can wear thin;
«Time to clear the plates away,
Thomas, we've not got all day!»
«Stop whinging, Lad!» is the refrain
As eating slowly is a pain...
Thomas takes these words on board
And in his brain they're carefully stored...
«Meal's nearly over, quickly now!»
Is met with gently furrowed brow
Then cheeky grin: «Stop whinging, Dad!»
Skilled with repartee – our lad!
(c) Poet in the woods 2017
Thomas - aged 3 and a half