She's a big girl now,
Turning 18 this summer,
She yells at me a little louder,
Than her shrill cries as a toddler,
Must have a lot of complaints,
Because she's still screaming,
But I'm back to the good old days,
To speak, when she was still learning,
She uses words, I've never heard,
In a tone, I didn't teach her,
Her tongue tattooed with profanities,
A frown adorns her pretty face, displeased,
'You don't understand, mom', she repeats,
So didn't you, till you were thirteen,
Always confusing your left with your right shoe,
'Mom, you gotta give me some space.'
'Mom, please stay home another day!'
'I'll be moving out in two weeks.'
'Sir, I'll be resigning in two weeks.'
'Bye, Mom.'
'Good morning, honey!'