A poem offering four parental vetoes on children’s behaviour followed by four juvenile vetoes on parental behaviour
You’re almost eleven and nearly a man,
It’s time you accepted some rules if you can.
Don’t sulk after football whenever you lose,
Don’t trample indoors before wiping your shoes,
Don’t act like a saint when your father’s about
And behave like the devil as soon as he’s out,
Don’t mumble ‘I promise’ and then disobey,
Agree to these rules and accept what I say.
Agreed, but on spotting a few grubby streaks
Don’t spit on your hanky and scour my cheeks,
Don’t ruin my morning outside the school gates
By making me kiss you in front of my mates,
Don’t greet me by saying, as soon as I’m home,
‘Your shirt’s hanging out and your hair needs a comb.’
Don’t tell me I’m grounded for pulling a face,
I’m almost eleven so give me some space.
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