“I don’t like this!” the child declares,
With tangled arms and tousled hairs.
“The tag is scratchy! The neck’s too tight!
This outfit doesn’t feel quite right!”
She twists and turns, she starts to pout,
“It’s poking me!” she yells and shouts.
The frills are stiff, the fabric’s rough,
No matter what, it’s not enough.
Dad tries hard with hopeful eyes,
“But darling, look! You’ll win a prize!”
She frowns, “Not worth the itchy pain—
I’d rather wear my clothes again!”
Her voice grows loud, the fuss begins,
A war of buttons, seams, and pins.
She stomps her feet and slams the door—
“I’m not wearing that anymore!”
At last they find her cotton dress,
She slips it on and beams with glee.
Sometimes a fight is just the clue—
That comfort means the world to you.
