I greet it with a toad in my face.
This is my boy, my DNA.
Who chooses to disturb my resting place.
“Let’s name him Ralf”
the Boy chooses to say.
I close my eyes, pray
asking for heavenly help.
“Ralf and I are going to play,”
And this is what I say.
“Not in your room.
Not in the kitchen.
Get that amphibian out of the house!”
Going to dreamland is not an option.
It’s time to see what else
the boy has collected this morning.
I’m wishing for a child who likes rock collections.
Ralf the Toad gives a croak.
The rock collecting idea,
such a wishful thought.