Dip low little boy, let me smell your unwashed hair. You’ve played all day with blocks and plushies, let me blow the lint from your plump toes. 

You’ve ripped your bright blue octopus? Ah, that’s okay. The moon is out, put him down. We can fix him in the morning. 

Dip low young man, let me kiss your stringy hair. You’ve played all day on your electric guitar, let me soothe your blistered fingers. 

You’ve screamed and raged against my will. Turned my face red like a cranberry. The moon is yellow against the black. We can fix this in the morning.