The tolerable threes quickly turn
to the frightening fours,
then fiddling fives and
by slick six they’re roaming outdoors.
A brief blast of sovereign seven,
then ennobled eight starts to leaven.
By nay nine they’ve picked up a pen
and write diatribes by terse ten.
Enlightened eleven may see a growth spurt.
And by tortured twelve they perfect throwing dirt.
All hell then breaks loose in tense teens,
as if they’d consumed magic beans.
God knows if they make it to twenty,
you will have been tortured aplenty.
At twenty-one they turn adult
and join the establishment cult.
It’s then they avoid you like rabies.
Your only hope left is grand babies.