Kate Lawless – End of Year Report

Twelve whole months have now passed by,
Since Kate first gave a strangled cry.
So now we must assess her worth,
One enormous year since birth.

First of all, she’s learned to eat,
Though bowel control is not complete.
Her dinner is consumed with grace,
And ends up over half her face.
She’s learned to crawl and stand already,
Chunky legs a bit unsteady.
She sees her playpen as a jail,
And whines to get let out on bail.
She’s learned to take her dribbler off
And give an imitation cough.
At clapping hands she’s expert, though
She still can’t get her hair to grow.
She spots the kids out in the street
And cranes to see with outstretched feet.
She’s itching to be big enough
To join in all that football stuff.
Curiosity killed the cat,
But Kate has never gone for that,
For, when somebody opens doors,
She’s straining round to find the cause.
She loves the birdies and the telly,
And likes to make her nappy smelly.
She makes a point not to forget
To get her woolly mittens wet.
She loves to nibble bread and jam,
And pull the guts out of the pram.
She’s very good at going to sleep,
Hours and hours without a peep.
She throws her clothes into a jumble,
And can’t resist an apple crumble.
Her speeches are rehearsed and planned,
Though difficult to understand.
At music, she has got to know
The adverts on the radio.
She dances up against a chair,
Just like a punk without the hair.
Her singing has improved with age,
It’s past the air-raid siren stage.
She’s learned to wave like royalty
When she is parting company.
When sitting on her throne up high,
She rules the roost like Lady Di,
And throws her toys and spoon around,
And never fails to hit the ground.
And when her Mam and Dad come in,
She gives that beaming, gummy grin.
And waves her hands or bangs a cup,
Demanding that she be picked up.

The first twelvemonth, then, in conclusion,
Has been the cause of much confusion.
But, all in all, we think she’s great,
So have a happy birthday, Kate.