2-Year Old

It seems, these days, I cannot win.
My son is often under my skin.

He spits his juice upon the floor,
Then shows up, at my door.

“Dad,” he cries, “Uck”, he proclaims.
But why he does this, he can’t explain.

From the bathtub, he splashes away,
Water across the floor, to my dismay.

Now I pull him from the tub,
And he proceeds to pee on the rug.

All I can do is shake my head,
As I get him ready to go to bed.

Goodnight he says with kiss and hug,
Then lies down to sleep, all warm and snug.

Innocently, after a day so rough,
All is worth it, no matter how tough.