His fingers do the walking
Thru cabinets and drawers
And find a million objects
To spread across the floors.

He likes to sing and play the drum
And blow his little horn
Just like his friend--the rooster—
His concerts start at dawn.

He undoes ev’rything I do
Moving with the speed of light
Until it’s time to go to bed
When be finally says "good night."

His questions are unending,
Who-what-where-whyfor-and-when.
An encyclopedic knowledge
Is all you need to answer him.

But when he rolls those eyes of blue
And reaches for my hand,
My heart turns into putty:
His wish is my command.