Whenever she feels it's a strain to stay standing
Andrea will dream of escape.
Coping with eight screaming kids is demanding,
More tiring than keeping an ape.

In dreamland ice creams don't mean trips to the cleaners,
A world free of crimes against homes,
Where lists of her miscreant kids' misdemeanours
Do not fill up numerous tomes,

Where good-humoured people have long conversations
In warm rooms with wood-burning stoves.
Floorboards are free of unsafe perforations
Where kids thought they'd find treasure troves.

Sleep isn't broken by junior ghost-busters
Applying their foul-smelling potion.
Dark eerie attics will never host clusters
Of kids on the verge of commotion.

Chefs who toast custard will clean up the mess.
Meal-times are conflict-free zones.
She isn't repeatedly asked to address
Requests for extravagant loans.

In dreamland she's no trouble falling asleep,
And dreams are not raided by dread,
And scenes of her home's rubble all in a heap,
While wrecking balls wait to be fed.

The lawns are much greener and winters are warmer
In dreamland where she'd like to linger.
But sadly reality calls to inform her
There's something attached to Mike's finger.

Mike's always putting his hands into places
Where insects or animals dwell.
He's a detective who only takes cases
That start with an unpleasant smell.

The twins always look like they're plotting and planning.
Andrea tries reading their minds.
She feels like she's been doing nothing but banning
Explosives and traps of all kinds.

They'd just reached the end of another school week,
And brought more dismay to their mother.
Amy and Alice displayed a cruel streak
When they played a trick on their brother.

They told Will a monster was secretly sleeping
Beneath all the junk in their shed.
He'd wake after dark and go stealthily creeping.
You'd still hear the clunk of his head.

His bucket-shaped head couldn't help make a racket
Because of loose parts made of metal.
His eye balls leaked oil that left stains on his jacket.
When angered he boiled like a kettle.

Will was afraid of the shed's latest menace,
This monster in search of food hampers,
A creature who'd eat your pet hamster called Dennis.
He hoped it would rather eat campers.

Will had to act to protect his small pet.
Attack was his form of defence.
Armed to the teeth he'd defeat this tall threat,
And make the bad monster past tense.

He entered the shed well before darkness fell,
And quietly took out the things
That would be good weapons. William could tell
What could become arrows or slings.

He took out the shovels, the pitchforks and spades,
The petrol can, hammers and rakes,
The shears and its gardening friends that had blades,
The ropes and the short timber stakes.

He made his own monster with various tools.
A pitchfork made up its right arm.
This furious thing would defeat any fools
In search of a new brand of harm.

He used a paint tin for the head of his creature.
He painted fierce eyes that were glaring.
He called it 'Miss Carter', after his teacher.
They shared facial features and bearing.

Will thought the monster would fear these proud eyes,
But after the dark had set in,
His creature fell over and made a loud noise.
Miss Carter would not stand again.

He felt sure the noise must have woken his foe.
The monster would be full of ire.
He panicked in dread of his imminent woe.
That's why he set their shed on fire.

Andrea has thought about buying a pet,
A present for Christmas this year.
Maybe an ape who would issue a threat,
Ensuring serene Christmas cheer.

She knows she's just dreaming. They'll show her they care.
Her anger will soon fade away.
They'll do something charming, disarming her glare.
They won't be alarming all day.

Her kids make her smile with their spirited wave,
And they'll entertain her, not rile her.
She'll cave in and get them the puppy they crave,
Maybe a friendly Rottweiler.