I must have toddled as well as the best,
but being uneasy by my crib
my little pumpkin head took to the wall
and thumped its first Orwellian plea.
Thirty four and I can still hear it,
Pops muttering under his breath, as Ma
‘Honey, its best to just ignore—
We do and its easier than conflict.
I know the path of least resistance leads
to toppled Rome—to people in furnaces,
and I must’ve toddled as well as the best
because I’ve done nothing fix the crib.