She rips her glasses off her face,
When she's flustered, quick as a flash;
Across the room to begin my search,
I hurriedly make a mad dash.
They have landed in mashed potatoes,
Hit the back of our heads in the car;
Were almost flushed down the potty,
Have been stuck inside Lydia's guitar.
In the fireplace they have been hidden,
Deep in a toy box, beneath a chair;
Even thrown into a garbage can,
Thank goodness I thought to look there.
So full of smudges and scratches,
How on earth can she possibly see;
Please don't let the dog chew them again,
Is my nagging, but earnest plea.
Only if you have a young one in glasses,
Can you fully, to me, relate;
For the day Hope learns they are not a toy,
I can hardly wait!
"Open my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of your law."