No Polished Floor

Come in, but don’t expect to find
All dishes done, all floors ashine

Observe the crumbs and toys galore.
The smudgy prints upon the door

The little ones we shelter here
Don’t thrive on a spotless atmosphere.

They’re more inclined to disarray
And carefree even messy play.

Their needs are great, their patience small.
All day I’m at their beck and call

It’s Mommy come! Mommy see!
Wiggly worms and red scraped knee.

Painted pictures, blocks piled high.
My floors unshined, the days go by.

Some future day they’ll flee this nest,
And I at last will have a rest!

Now you tell me which matters more,
A happy child or a polished floor?