A poem that was in a Dear Abby Column in Tucson,Az.
Come in.
But don't expect to find all the dishes done; all the floors ashine.
Observe the crumpled rug, the toys galore, the smudgy fingerprinted door.
The little ones we shelter here don't thrive on spotless atmosphere.
They're more inclined to disarray and care free, even messy play.
Their needs are great, their patience small. All day I'm at their beck and call.
It's "Mommie come, Mommie see!"
Wiggly worms and red scraped knee, painted pictures, blocks piled high.
My floors unshined the days go by.
Some future day they'll flee this nest. And I, at last will have a rest.
And which really matters more?
A happy child or a polished floor?
MAKE MEMORIES THAT MATTER!!!
