I have a little sidekick, she accompanies me everywhere;
The shops, the cafe, the bathroom, she watches me wash my hair.
If I eat she wants it, she will not hesitate to rob,
Snatching swiftly from my hand and stuffing it in her gob.
She leans in with interest, when I put on make up or brush my teeth.
If I put her down, she devastates the cupboards underneath.
My sidekick’s not too patient, her stealth could do with work,
She comes panting down the hall, if she’s not my side kick she goes berserk.
Out of sight out of mind, this my sidekick comprehends.
But if she knows I’m in the house, she needs to be my friend.
She screams and flails her arms, as if she might just fly,
Unless she’s seated on my hip, she will torture you with her cry.
She always keen to start the day, in my view perhaps a tad too early,
A banana, precedes two Weetabix, to keep her energised and burly.
In fact my side kick’s like a Hoover, consuming everything in her path,
If you remove her before she’s finished, there’s a loud shrill aftermath.
She steers clears of avocado, her nemesis, her kryptonite.
But a good sleeper as a product, of a relentless appetite.
There’s just one problem with my side kick, she can’t fly, bound or jump.
If she somersaults off the bed, she lands with a hefty thump.
A side kick is an apprentice, your closest companion, a you in training,
Our together time is limited, I should be flattered not complaining.
If she doesn’t tag along, how will she learn to do things on her own?
I should embrace our time together, try not to sigh or moan.
It’s mostly quite endearing, despite the impact on my chiropractic health,
But there is one thing that I crave, to use the bathroom by my self.