He’s six months old.
He’s strong and bold.
Too young to talk,
Or crawl, or walk.
Round stand-up sling,
Wheels get him going.
Tiny feet on the ground,
Push to get around.
Glides where he wants to go,
Miracle, that it is so.
Juice box in her hands,
Nonchalant she stands,
On the back of his toy.
Murmurs ‘giddy-up boy.’
His two year old sister,
Shows who is master.
Unknowing, he thrusts on,
The moving is fun.
His feet slip and slide,
As he donates a ride.
© Copyright, March 2015, Jane Stansfeld
jstansfeld 
And a special grin from me…
Thank you Frederick!
Oh, you bought back pleasant memories there. Wish we could have those years over again.
I feel that being a grand parent is reliving some of those lovely years without the accompanying trails such as sleepless nights and discipline issues. We get all the highs and few of the lows!
What fun to observe….and no harm done. But just wait…he will grow bigger and bigger and the tide may turn someday! Maybe they will read this poem and smile. I suspect you’re having fun watching your little grandpeople, Jane.
Happy Eastertide!
You are right on both scores. I am having great fun with the grand children; and he is already getting bigger and bigger. His two year old sister is very petite and he is a large baby. She has just begun to graduate out of diapers which is just as well as there is a certain indignity now that they wear the same size! Happy Easter to you – a lovely time of year.