Because he's two,
There's bound to be bumps.
Scrapes that get one
Down in the dumps.
Forehead meets street,
It doesn't tickle!
The only cure is
Grape Popsicle.
Because he's a toughie
He feigns a smile.
'Cuz even when he's hurt,
He does it with style.
When all else fails,
Empty bag onto the floor.
Mom cries 'NO!'
Kismet woofs 'MORE!'
The end.
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