I have to plead exhaustion as the main reason I wrote this poem, but it’s mildly amusing (at least to me). Plus there aren’t many poems about baby poop out there.
The Diaper Change
Smell of prunes,
sight of taint.
Diaper looks like its
full of paint.
under my finger.
That smell of prunes
sure does linger!
Wolfey kicks and Wolfey giggles.
Wolfey’s always full of wriggles.
But he squirms the most
when he’s had a poop,
as if to cover us both in goop.
Finally, clean diaper’s up! That’s the that sight I want.
Then Wolfe begins again to grunt.