She's abstract painted everywhere
Up her arms, and into her hair
Over the sofa, on the door
Across the window, on the floor
She climbed high up, using a chair
Finds pencils on the shelf and then
She found a set of marker pens
And paints the walls without a care
Her father made her scrub the floor
He was not cross, but Mum might be
But it's a chore, "Don't let Mum see,"
She scrubbed half off, He said, "Scrub more!"
I text, "To ward off all these hells
You must invest in some small bells
Attach them to her feet or dress,"
"But what's what's she doing? You can't guess!"
Her father sighed and shook his head
"But when we are asleep in bed
Those bells will wake us when they ring
We'd need the bells on everything!"
I said, "You have to teach your child
Before she goes to start a task
Go and find your Mum or your Dad
Before you act, you always ask."
"Yes - she'll ask, may I paint the door
Or maybe, may I kill the frog
May I paint the floor
May I paint the dog?"
Granny, you can teach he
The vital words and sounds
I'll speak to her on zoom,
Each minute twenty pounds
But you must hold her still
Recite with as well
When will she seek permission?
Only time will tell
Then at bedtime you play it back
The entire recording
Better than a lullaby
And for more rewarding.
Mummy, may I paint the front door?
Dad, may I kill the jumping frog?
Gran, may I paint the kitchen floor?
And may I paint the neighbour's dog?
-ends-
Editing observations.
To cut syllables I changed have to into must.
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