Snapshots of the Four Grandchildren

This little fellow is very robust
As you can see,
But his parents consider his diet habits
Naughty.
The child has proved himself unable
Ever to eat
Dairy products, fruits, eggs, vegetables,
Or meat.
They drag him around to various medics
Again and again
When all the child craves is a tissue of Kleenex
And an aspirin.

This little maiden knows all there is to know
About Sex; our son showed her Sex photographed:
People, flowers, apes, birds. She laughed.
He rented, God knows where, a moving picture show

That told it all again and rather annoyed
The baby’s Grans; the movies would have brought a blush
To Fanny Hill and Mr. Sigmund Freud;
The Grans said, “Shame.” The son said, “Hush.”

But the lectures and the pictures did no good.
The baby still plants feathers deep in a plastic cup;
My how she cries when the birdies don’t come up,
Acting exactly as we knew she would.

This is the one the sea gulls attack;
He is really rather a sensitive child,
Quiet and remarkably artistic,
Loves to sit in trees, is mild
With animals. Gulls never bother
The other children. I wonder.
Perhaps the lad secretes an odor.
Wouldn’t that be unutterably dreadful?
Or does he rather resemble a gull?

And here is our very happy conformist
Who simply adores obeying a rule;
A mannered model, she can resist
Every infection polluting the school;

She keeps herself lovely, is never late,
Does sums and calligraphy gloriously well;
But twice she has stolen my upper plate
For Show and Tell.