Judith Viorst: Being a grandparent is the best revenge

You laughed when I worried about you. Now
You have a child,
And his merest mosquito bite can cause you alarm,
But he laughs when you count the ways he could come to harm
Without your protection.

You squirmed when I smuggled with you. Now
You have a child,
And you're trying to give him a cuddle and a kiss,
But he slips from your grasp, determined to resist this
Annoying affection.

You spurned meals I made just for you. Now
You have a child,
And you've gone out and bought his favorite chicken parts,
But he tells you he's finished - one taste after he starts,
Though they're broiled to perfection.

You sighed when I said just you wait until
You have a child.
Now I'm here to assure you, unequivocably,
That though he is doing to you what you did to me,
He's not into rejection.

For he may not want your protection.
And he may not want your cuddles.
And he may not want your chicken.
But he wants mine.