'You're spoiling them!' the mother cries <br />When I give way to weepy eyes <br />And let them do the things they wish, <br />Like cleaning up the jelly dish, <br />Or finishing the chocolate cake, <br />Or maybe let the rascal take <br />My piece of huckleberry pie, <br />Because he wants it more than I. <br /> <br />'You're spoiling them!' the mother tells, <br />When I am heedless to their yells, <br />And let them race and romp about <br />And do not put their joy to rout. <br />I know I should be firm, and yet <br />I tried it once to my regret; <br />I will remember till I'm old <br />The day I started in to scold. <br /> <br />I stamped my foot and shouted: 'Stop!' <br />And Bud just let his drum sticks drop, <br />And looked at me, and turned away; <br />That night there was no further play. <br />The girls were solemn-like and still, <br />Just as girls are when they are ill, <br />And when unto his cot I crept, <br />I found him sobbing as he slept. <br /> <br />That was my first attempt and last <br />To play the scold. I'm glad it passed <br />So quickly and has left no trace <br />Of memory on each little face; <br />But now when mother whispers low: <br />'You're spoiling them,' I answer, 'No! <br />But it is plain, as plain can be, <br />Those little tykes are spoiling me.'<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spoiling-them/
