Twas the night before TAKS, when all through the house,
moms were grilling their children like a nuthouse.
The clothes were laid by their beds with care,
in hopes of avoiding the morning warfare.
The children were cowered, strung-out in their beds,
while visions of math problems scatter in their heads.
And, I, in a panic, downed my first nightcap
While dad settled down for his long nap.
When upstairs there arose such a clatter,
We sprang from our bed to see what was the matter.
Away up the stairs, we flew like a flash,
Tore open his door, and fell down with a crash.
As the whelp on my cheek started to grow,
I knew I had reached a new low.
My son was sitting on his bed amid the clutter
of weeks of Flashbacks, fractions, and flashcards, with a stutter.
While I started to sputter,
my sweet little son had turned into a nutter
I brushed myself off and sat on his bed,
to see if I could ease his sweet head.
He muttered about fractions, perimeters, and patterns,
So I listened and tried to ease his concerns.
I told him TAKS really isn’t a big deal,
But if he fails, I’ll feed him to an eel.
