FOR AMY, 3-19-05

You wore a mop of curly hair,
Also, a frown that said “Beware!”
It was a day in March you came,
And no day since has been the same:
You were determined that we know
Our old routine would have to go.

We had to burp you at the sink
Whenever you’d had milk to drink;
And, if we wanted you to sleep,
Your bassinet we had to keep
Pushed up against the Frigidaire,
Or you would wail, with fists in air.

You fussed and fumed in frilly frocks,
And spurned your dolls for metal trucks.
You climbed up trees and broke your arm,
But trained a mutt who judges charmed.
Except for ones you liked the best,
Your teachers seemed a bit distressed.

At Christmastime you showed remorse
If Santa had not brought a horse.
Remember when you were a ‘Scamp’
And went AWOL from Girl Scout camp?
You always livened up the scene---
What’s happened to the years between?

When you became a beaming bride
T’was time for us to step aside;
But that is for another rhyme
And yet another year in time.
Today we cheer and celebrate---
Our baby girl turns forty-eight!

-- Helen Ewoldsen