• As the cloud of smoke clears
    you here a little voice say
    "Sissy I made Breakfast"
    Egg's drip from every counter top
    As a milky white river reachs my socks
    He smiles as he hands me a spoon
    And points to the culinary delight
    He calls glop
    The kitchen looks like a snow storm had pasted
    As I reach for the broom, to find
    It had been mistaken for a spoon
    Pots and pans like a mine feild
    Stubbing my toe trying to cross
    What used to be a floor!
    I look at him as he smirks
    Its just another day
    With a three year old