On That Note...

Just along the lines of my last post, this poem popped into my head yesterday as I was lying half alseep after a great siesta with my little lamb curled up and nursing at my side:

Cleaning and scrubing 

can wait 'til tomorrow

for babies grow up, 

we've learned to our sorrow.

So quiet down cobwebs,

dust go to sleep.

I'm rocking my baby,

and babies don't keep!

My mom has this poem embroidered and framed at home.  I remember reading it as a kid, but of course I never really understood just what it meant.  Anyway, as I lay there in a sleepy stupor, I found myself repeating this poem in my head and just had to smile--I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep!