Goodnight Annoying mother.

Asleep on my bed

On my side of the bed.

Chest height to me when standing now - no longer the baby i clutched uncertainly all those late nights and early hours.

You are full of recaps. Your stories of your days. That giggle.

When the sunlight hits your hair and your skin at the right time of day you're the kind of beauty of sonnets and songs.

You blush today when i walk into your classroom after school- you hastily remove the name you'd put above yours while choosing your class jobs.

Line leaders, with Andrew huh?

You insist you didn't place it like that.

Your confused friend says Yes you did.

I laugh and you hit me insisting you didn't do it.

Only 7.

At 7 i'm pretty sure the only boys i took any notice of were characters in books i was reading.

You and i are different like that.

Your hands are fidgety like mine.

I tell you to stop touching but i know you won't.

You are a much better actress than i.

Those tears turn on at the click of fingers, the slightest slip of my tongue.

You tell me no one cares about you any more, and i laugh.

I sing the song What about meeeee... and you tell me to stop.

I keep singing. It's a very catchy song. I'll be singing it for days.

You leave the table.

You do your work.

When it's time to say goodnight - i ask you for a favourite part.

You say 'Goodnight annoying mother.'

By annoying i am sure you mean Awesome.