On the Day That I Was Born
 
 


by Bruce Lansky
 
   
On the day that I was born,
My father was so proud.
No other baby in its crib
could scream and cry so loud.

No other baby kicked its covers
to the nursery floor.
No other baby drank its milk
then yelled, “I want some more!”

And when I messed my diapers,
nurses rang the fire bell.
Then firemen with hoses
would spray the nursery well.

I would have been so boring—
so quiet and well-bred,
if the clumsy doctor hadn’t
dropped me on my head.

 

Text © Bruce Lansky reprinted from If Pigs Could Fly...and Other Deep Thoughts, published by Meadowbrook Press. Illustration © Stephen Carpenter. Any copying or use of this poem or illustration without consent is unlawful.

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