Don’t Mess With Mum.

My son came home from school one day,
with a smirk upon his face.
He’d decided he was smart enough,
to put me in my place.

Guess what I learned in Civics Two,
that’s taught by Mr Wright?
It’s all about the laws today,
and the Children’s Bill of Rights.

It says I need not clean my room,
don’t have to cut my hair.
No-one can tell me what to think,
or tell me what to wear.

I’ve freedom from religion,
and regardless what you say,
I don’t have to bow my head,
and I sure don’t have to pray.

I can wear earrings if I want,
and pierce my face and tongue.
I can watch and read just what I like,
wear tats if I want one.

Don’t you ever touch me,
my body’s for my use.
It’s not for hugs and kisses,
cause that’s just child abuse.

And if you ever smack me,
I’ll charge you with a crime.
I’ll back up, all the charges,
with the marks on my behind.

Don’t preach about your morals,
like your mother did to you.
That’s nothing more than mind control,
and that’s illegal too!

Mum, I have these children rights,
so you cannot influence me,
or I’ll call the Children’s Service Division,
better know as C.S.D.

My first instinct was of cause,
to throw him out the door.
But the chance to teach a lesson,
made me think a little more.

I mulled it over carefully,
I couldn’t let this go.
A smile crept upon my face;
he’s messing with a pro.

The next day we went shopping,
at the Salvo’s store.
I told him pick out what you want,
there’s pants and shirts galore.

I’ve called and checked with C.S.D.
who said they didn’t care,
if I brought your shoes from K-Mart,
instead of Nike Airs.

I’ve cancelled that appointment,
for your diver’s test.
The C.S.D. is unconcerned,
so I’ll decide what’s best.

There is no time to stop and eat,
nor pick up stuff to much.
And starting from tomorrow,
you can make your own packed lunch.

Just save the raging appetite,
and wait till dinnertime.
Were having liver and onions,
a favourite dish of mine.

He asked “Can I rent a movie,
to play on my VCR”
“Sorry, your TV I’ve sold,
for new tyres on my car.”

I’ve also rented your room,
you’ll take the couch instead,
cause all the C.S.D. requires,
is a roof over your head.

Your clothing wont be trendy now,
and I’ll choose what we eat,
and that allowance you used to get,
will buy me something neat.

I’m selling off your jet ski,
dirt bike and roller blades,
check out the “Parents Bill Of Rights”
it’s in effect today!

Hey, Hot Shot, are you crying?
Why are you on your knees?
Are you asking God for help,
instead of C.S.D.?

 

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