There are five, or four, or seven people in your house,
But there is only one who knows all the things.
Or maybe ‘notices’ is a better word.
Knows, notices, makes a mental note, inventories…
It’s part of your role in the family.
But wow, it would be nice to share this burden of all-knowingness,
You know what size shoe your daughter wears and the kind of elastic waist
That your son won’t dare put on his body.
You notice when the cereal is getting low and
You know how many loaves of bread are left in the freezer.
You know where your tween’s Nintendo DS charger is
Where his jeans are
Where his Iron man t-shirt,
Harry Potter book,
And hair gel are located.
He has no idea, but you know.
You know where to buy the strawberry toothpaste,
The only kind your kindergartener will tolerate.
You know how many hot dogs he’s had this week,
When he last took his vitamins
What will make him break out into a grin.
You know that look on your daughter’s face,
The one, the ONE
That means she’s not okay,
Even when she says she’s okay.
You know how to get it out of her,
The problem, the fears,
You know how to tell her hard truths while still