I sneak up behind my mother,
Moving quietly on my toes.
My hand begins to hover,
And I quickly grab her nose.
I poke my thumb between my knuckles,
Hold my fist beneath her chin.
She tickles while I chuckle,
And we both begin to grin.
“I got your nose! I got your nose!”
I yell and dance around.
She claps her hands and then she sits
Right down upon the ground.
“Oh, dear!” she cries. “How will I smell?
How will I face my friends?
Without my nose, I won’t look well
Or know if dinner blends.”
She looks so genuinely sad
I start to feel some pity.
If her nose will make her glad,
Her smile will make her pretty.
I unfold my hand before her face
And let her take her nose.
She puts it in its proper place
And off to work she goes.