Oh Big White Balloon,
You are such a boon.
You keep baby busy from nine until noon.
She bops you, she bats you, she smothers you in prune,
She tries to catch you with a small plastic spoon.
Meanwhile, I am a tidying typhoon,
Blitzing my way through the kitchen and saloon*,
Cleaning and sorting and humming a tune,
Thinking I’m bound to have to stop soon …
But baby’s now wrapping you in a flowery festoon,
And putting you to bed with Rabbit and Baboon,
She reads you a book, turns out the moon,
And snuggles up next to you, eyes all a-swoon.
Oh, please stay with us, at least until June,
Lovely, lowly, Big White Balloon.
* well in France the living room is a “salon” so I cheated a bit. We don’t actually have a bar for cowboys complete with swinging doors in our house, although I know a nearly-five year-old who would be very happy with that state of affairs.