This time I’m the parent, you’re the child,
How strange it feels, the roles restyled.
I coax and nudge, with gentle pleas,
“Let’s get that checked, just come with me.”
But you cross your arms and shake your head,
Mutter excuses, fill with dread.
You’re stubborn now, resistant, sly—
A glint of “no” within your eye.
I hear myself, your voice from then—
“Don’t worry, I’m just fine again!”
But now I know, with growing heart,
Why you insisted from the start.
M.A.D. Works 