Three! THREE? (Daddy's Ode to our Twinkles)

Three! THREE? How can they be THREE?
I’m telling you folks that I’d pay a small fee
To tell me how possibly they could stay wee!

(I’m sure that you see that my twin poetry
is the annual affair that I want it to be.)

They bring me such glee to the highest degree,
Even more than I ever thought I could foresee.
I’m speaking of course of A.Q. and C.B.
Who are getting so big that they now often pee
In the potty (which is quite a burden off me).

They know numbers through ten and the letters through Z,
They know mommy drinks coffee while daddy drinks tea,
When to flee, when they’re free, how to see whether she
Is the key to what is annoying to me!

Let me tell you it’s true that the first, Addie Q,
Is able to make my day one that I’ll rue.
My patience each day is tried one time or two
(Okay, alright, fine... it’s no less than a few!)

But then, as if on cue, she knows just what to do.
She looks at me and tells me “Dad, I love you!”
(But more often than not it’s because Mom told her to...)

The glorious hue that you’ll find on her shoe
Must always be pink, this I promise to you.
It’s the way that we do make it easy for you
To tell her apart from the one she’s next to!

That girl that’s ne’er far is the one we call “Char”.
She stays right on par with her twin when they spar.
When one goes too far, her twin raises the bar.

I wonder, would she have been great at guitar,
If she still had that finger where now there’s a scar?
Don’t worry, we keep it around in a jar.
(Not really, I’m kidding! Hardy har har!)

Perhaps you now know that each girl was a star
In a movie (don’t see it... it was, well, subpar).
We went to the theater by way of our car,
And gave them our money, twenty bucks au revoir!
We witnessed a plot that was really bizarre,
But we got to identify them from afar.

Before I wrap up here and tell you goodbye,
I want you to know that I’m one lucky guy.
When I write up these poems, I try not to be shy,
I am not embarrassed to tell you that I
am so very happy each day that goes by.

I watch over my girls in bed where they lie,
I want to protect them from what makes them cry.
I’ll always be with them, till one day I die,
And then I’ll still watch them, from high in the sky.

Till next year, when certainly once again I
Will wonder how yet one more year has gone by,
Three days before math nerds will celebrate pi,
I’ll sit here and hope that my words won’t run dry,
And wonder how one day the twins might reply.