Category: Children

The children are too quiet-
Beware the thunderclap!
The lull before the riot–
I am about to nap.

by Ray Romine Thursday, August 17, 1950

We call and call our little lad,
And wonder if his hearing’s bad;
But we know, as he hears the whispered bell
Of the ice-cream boy for blocks, all’s well.

by Ray Romine Thursday, July 12, 1951

Junior’s doodling caper,
New, entranced us all;
What a shame his paper
Had to be the wall.

He relieved the tedium,
Artistic urge obeyin’.
Too bad his favorite medium
Happened to be crayon.

When his deviations
Took to pen-and-ink,
He had some new creations
Underneath the sink.

Now, curb-stones in our city
Are gay, bedecked and smart:
That landlord, what a pity
He had no eye for art!

by Ray Romine Sunday, October 10, 1948

Sometimes it seems that these extremes
We use to discipline our kids
Are less designed with that in mind
Than to let grownups flip their lids!

by Ray Romine Thursday, August 16, 1951

From one to six, I guess,
A child sometimes, at table ,
Will make as big a mess
As ever he is able.

It’s not that he’s superior
To home or folks or food;
But he’s in his exterior
Decorating mood.

by Ray Romine Friday, October 13, 1950

As Junior stirs his Baby-food,
And splashes in his milk,
I think he isn’t understood
By Parents and their ilk,

For he will eat his safety-pins,
And munch upon the rug
Or toys designed for making dins,
Or gulp some deadly drug.

He won’t devour the things he should,
But eats what he can catch–
If we would HIDE his food, he could
Get something down his hatch.

by Ray Romine Friday, September 20, 1946

The condition in which you leave the bathtub
Inspires in me considerable wrath, bub.

by Ray Romine Thursday, December 14, 1950

Child-rearing, it’s apparent,
Calls for tact unmitigated.
But remember, any parent
Is a lot more complicated.

by Ray Romine Thursday, September 1, 1949

Junior’s fixed his bike again
(The wrench turned up on the divan);
And then he messed with planes awhile
(The craft are grounded, kitchen-style);
Also he played a little ball
(The bat and gloves are in the hall);
He must have had a bite, at least
(The crumbs here rather point to feast);
But Junior’s well, at any rate
(Or so the signs would indicate).

by Ray Romine Friday, September 19, 1952

Among the things that have him burned,
Junior’s sure there’s no excuse
For parents’ never having learned
Water’s for interior use.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, April 1, 1953