Small children

are

perpetual motion machines

Driven by the energy

they suck out of their parents

Their rambunctiousness

Inversely proportionate

To the state

of their parent’s patience

Fueled by mischief

and sugar

They run rampage

in a constant stream of noise

Sprinkling toys and destruction

In their wake

Small and mighty

They rule the roost

In play doh pieces

On every surface

Like spider webs

In an empty house