We're gonna butt heads, she and I,
if we don't soon see eye to eye.
She is three, I'm thirty-five,
but she rules the roost, is Queen of the Hive.
The parenting books say take deep breaths
but her stubbornness is out of my depths.
But then she smiles and says to me,
"I love you Mama. You're my favorite, see."
Together we'll journey across each mile
and be thankful the teen years aren't for awhile.
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