‘Twas the night before a home visit, when all through our house
All medicine and chemicals were locked away by my spouse;
The evacuation map was hung by the children’s bedrooms with care,
In hopes that my 1 year old could follow it if a fire should flare;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
Which were all non drop sided cribs without bumpers for their heads;
And me in my best yoga pants and him in no shirt or a cap. Have just started filling out, our paperwork stack.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
That outlet is uncovered, oh no! Oh dear!
With a little old notebook so lively and quick,
She’ll be here real soon, the outlet covers I must stick!
More rapid than eagles yearly licensing has came,
More photographs, more background checks, more and more of the same:
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
We cleaned it! We stashed it! We put away all!”
She will speak not a word, but go straight to her work,
Check off all the boxes; hopefully not mentioning our quirks,
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, I think we might be good to go;
Then I hear her exclaim, as she drives out of sight—
“You passed, you’re re-licensed, don’t forget your medication log, good night”