The mom is doting with the neonates,
but once a baby’s aged to six months old,
the woman opens up abrupt floodgates –
impatience pouring over uncontrolled.
There isn’t space then for a child’s hurt,
unless the injury needs stitch or gauze.
Her offspring grow accustomed to her blurt,
ignoring her, avoiding giving cause.
Her first-born tried for years, at first confused,
exasperated by the age of five,
but words were worthless. Mom was not amused,
and so the child managed to survive
another dozen years at home (and whole),
by learning to shellac her gentle soul.