Oh, treacherous Bun
In honor of Big Sister’s ballet recital this week, a little ditty about The Bun, my personal nemesis.
Oh, treacherous Bun, how do I hate thee.
You’ve reduced me & my girl to tears, you see.
The brushing and pulling and flyaway hairs,
Why am I doing this? Who even cares??
Hair gel and spray and lots of pins.
You still fall apart, and no one wins.
The hours I’ve spent on YouTube galore
Watching perky moms explain…what a bore!
Socks, pantyhose & other apparatus,
I’d have better luck with a duck-billed platypus.
The problem is, I’m just so damn tired.
Little brother just ran up covered in muck and mire.
I’m afraid I missed out on The Bun DNA.
Yikes! Calgon, take me away!