A Baby’s Point of View

I'm thinking as I lay here between you, Mom and Dad That the experts say you're spoiling me and it makes me kind of sad. But I hope you keep on listening only to your heart 'Cause raising me's no science, rather it's an art. And I haven't read the books you see, so theories don't mean much If in the dark I can't hear Dad and feel my Mommy's touch. They say I need a schedule to tell me when to eat, That you should keep my person tidy, clean, and neat. But keep the bibs for later 'cause I think I must confess That sometimes when I'm eating peas I like to make a mess. And I haven't read the books you see, so theories don't mean much When I'm hungry and it's one o'clock but two o'clock is lunch. I know they say you're crazy 'cause I'm always in my pack Riding high in front of you or sometimes on your back. But I have met and seen the world with such a better view Than many babies ever have, all because of you. And I haven't read the books you see, so theories don't mean much If I'm in my fancy stroller, but I can't see a bunch. Now where you're really going wrong is that I'm in your bed 'Cause in our country that's not done; you're spoiling me, it's said. They say to put me down the hall and let me "cry it out" And that teaching me to be alone is what it's all about. But I haven't read the books you see, so theories don't mean much If, reaching out when I'm afraid, there's no one there to clutch. For it isn't all that long you know, until I'm on my own And from the fabric you provide, my life's quilt will be sewn. So will it matter when I'm thirty that I nursed for thirty months? That I slept securely in your bed or used my stroller once? 'Cause I haven't read the books you see, so theories don't mean much If in the dark I can't hear Dad and feel my Mommy's touch.