The Blanket

I watched a mother with her child,
A toddler, two or three,
As she attempted to tuck in
A blanket ‘neath his knee.

He didn’t want that blanket there;
He struggled and was kicking,
While she cajoled, the honey in her voice
Not really sticking.

It wasn’t all that cold outside;
His jacket was quite bulky.
So I could understand exactly
What made him so sulky.

But she, determined to succeed,
Her mindset quite unmoving,
Continued tucking all around,
The boy’s mood not improving.

Her tone of voice got nasty then,
And she was quite insistent:
“You need to have this blanket on!”
Which made him more resistant.

It made me wonder, what’s the age
For children to decide
If they are hot or cold enough,
Especially outside.

I’d hate for someone else to judge
And force me into layers,
More so when it’s loved ones who
Turn into your betrayers.

I rooted for the kid, but knew
The battle had been lost.
The mother won, but made me think
It wasn’t worth the cost.