Cried the his merry aunts.
"Get back here, Dan," his mother called,
Grabbing for his pants.
The little lad, he toddled fast
For such a little chap,
But mother caught him up again
And hugged him to her lap.
"Now give it back," she placed her hand
Palm open to the skies.
But Dan would not relinquish yet
His long-awaited prize.
He wiggled and he tried to run,
From mother's grip so strong.
But though he tried with all his might
She'd trapped him, right or wrong.
With fist held tight, his treasure safe,
He gave a little pout.
Then came one long horrid scream
Far louder than a shout.
"It's mine! It's mine!" He cried aloud.
"Don't take it! I won't share."
He sniffled and a little tear
Dropped down upon the chair.
"How 'bout a trade," Mom offered him
A racecar, top, and ball.
Dan shrieked with joy at his new toys
And traded for them all.
His mother smiled and gave a hug,
She didn't even mock,
That all the fuss and rumpus here
Was for a dirty sock.
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