BABIES DON'T KEEP.

Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,

Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,

Hang out the washing, make up the bed,

Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue,

Lullaby, rockabye, lullaby loo.

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due.

Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo.

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew

And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo

But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.

Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?

Lullaby, rockabye, lullaby loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,

But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

-Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

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How is it possible that in just six short days, my baby will be ONE?

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photos of Brother, three days new, taken by my dear friend, Jen