Wet Oatmeal Kisses by Erma Bombeck

I read this poem for the first time when I was pregnant with Dom and it has stayed with me throughout the years. It makes me tear up every time. Time seems to go by so fast and I know my kids will be all grown up and off to chase life's big adventures before I know it. This poem helps me to stop and slow down and remember to CHERISH the little moments that I know my heart will someday ache for. Enjoy...


One of these days you’ll explode
and shout to all the kids,
“Why don’t you just grow up
and act your age!”

And they will…

Or, “You guys get outside
and find something to do –
without hurting each other
And don’t slam the door!”

And they don’t.

You’ll straighten their bedrooms
until it’s all neat and tidy,
toys displayed on the shelf,
hangers in the closet,
animals caged.
You’ll yell,
“Now I want it to stay this way!”

And it will…

You will prepare a perfect dinner
with a salad that hasn’t
had all the olives picked out
and a cake with
no finger traces in the icing
and you’ll say,
“Now this is a meal for company.”

And you will eat it alone…

You’ll yell,
“I want complete privacy on the phone.
No screaming,
Do you hear me?”

And no one will answer.

No more plastic tablecloths stained
No more dandelion bouquets.
No more iron-on patches.
No more wet, knotted shoelaces,
muddy boots or
rubber bands for ponytails.

Imagine…. a lipstick with a point,
no babysitters for New Years Eve,
washing clothes only once a week,
no PTA meetings or silly school plays
where your child is a tree,
no car pools,
blaring stereos or
forgotten lunch money.

No more Christmas presents made
of library paste and toothpicks,
no wet oatmeal kisses,
no more tooth fairy,
no more giggles in the dark,
scraped knees to kiss
or sticky fingers to clean

Only a voice asking,
“Why don’t you grow up?”

And the silence echoes:
“I did”