What a victim, little creature,
You are, to daddy’s pride
He will set the World right with you;
There is nowhere you can hide.

As you lie all pink and rosy
In your cot, you cannot guess,
All the things that he is planning
For the greater happiness.

Just because he has a theory
That the human race improves,
You, my dear I fear, are chosen
To try out the prescribed moves.

Like his views on many subjects,
It’s a theory spelled out big;
And because you are the first born,
You’ve been made the guinea pig.

But remember, of the last word
You can have the final say;
When you grow up and dad is waiting
You can blow his dream away.

January 1992