It started in our family room,
then into the kitchen it seeped,
taking the front closet and hallway
before up the stairway it creeped.

What once was my bathroom it conquered,
it moved boldly through Mom and Dad’s room,
every space in our place was exploded
by its life-changing clutter kabooms.

It’s been so long ago since it started,
this unyielding advance like no other,
that by now it’s become fact there’s no stopping
the Invasion of Our New Kid Brother.

BIGFOOTING LITTLE BIGFOOT – Our kid brother’s invasion was not bloodless, noiseless, or unsuccessful. He now controls all or part of every sector. (Photo by PaC)


There’s a Drooling Machine at our house
They call it “The Baby Boy.”
It’s cuddly and cute and I squeeze it
Though Mom insists it’s not a toy.

It runs like a faucet that’s broken
Leaking everywhere all through the day
But when I grab a wrench to fix the Machine
Mom insists, “Put that away!”

She says, “The Boy’s doing exactly
What it should be at this stage!”
I say “Buyer Beware”’s a good lesson
For shoppers of every age

Lest they get stuck with a Drooling Machine
For which they must apologize
With some on-going lie there’s no way they believe, like,
“Isn’t he the cutest little guy?”


When she brought home
my new kid sister
Mom said,
“Say hello to Carrie.”

I thought that’s what Mom said,
but am I certain?
Well, no.
Not very.

Because Dad calls the kid
“L’il Chicken”
“Queen of Sheba-Geneeba Sleuth.”

While Mom says to her,
“Just look at you,
My Sweet Precious Little

Gramma sings
“Hi Boo-ga-loo,”
while strolling baby
‘round the block.

Grampa asks Dad
for pictures of
“My favorite l’il
Cuckoo Clock.”

I’ve learned:
forgetful silly tongued grownups
can be scary.

Lucky for my sister
I for one
will be sticking with her real name: