Sometimes there’s nothing will placate them,
Can stop them bawling and wailing
Like inconsolable, Eastern, coffin-cortège mourners,
Being torn away from what they’re wanting.
No degree in Toddler Distraction Technique will do,
Not even promises of more and greater later;
Above all when it’s a:
Purple-sparkling,
Wheel-a-steering,
Moving,
Turning,
Revving,
Driving
Toy to end all airport concourse toys.
Wild horses wouldn’t drag them away, the boys,
Just one desperate dad, to a whole lot of noise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yeah...kids do that to me, too. Worse when they are yours. They grow up and then you start worrying all over again!