| |
| I tip-toed to your bedroom door |
| a little while ago |
| And, oh, the thoughts that filled my mind |
| I wondered if you'd like to know. |
| You looked so peaceful as you slept |
| I took a closer peek |
| And long to tuck the covers 'round |
| And kiss your boyish cheek. |
| But I was afraid I might disturb you |
| If I tried to touch your hand |
| And, if awakened with a kiss |
| You might not understand. |
| |
| How many times I look at you, |
| my grown up teenaged son |
| And memory takes me back through time |
| To my little curly headed one. |
| When you were just a little lad |
| And hurt yourself at play |
| I'd dry your tears and comfort you |
| And try to kiss the hurt away. |
| And now you've grown so big and tall |
| But growing can be painful too |
| The hurt shows in your eyes and face |
| It's harder now to comfort you. |
| |
| I look across the church sometimes |
| And see you sitting in your chair |
| So proud and straight, my teenaged son, |
| Your girl beside you there. |
| And I'm reminded once again |
| Of my curly-headed lad |
| I'd had to spank in church one day |
| When he'd been very bad. |
| |
| You promised me that if I didn't |
| Punish you like that again |
| You'd sit up in your seat in church |
| As quiet as the men. |
| Perhaps you thought that I was cruel |
| To punish you that way |
| It was because I loved you |
| That I wanted you to obey. |
| |
| I know there still are many times |
| When it's hard for you to understand |
| Why we must make restrictions |
| And put out a restraining hand. |
| You think sometimes that it's unfair |
| To treat you as we do |
| You'd like to make your own decisions |
| And our advice often angers you. |
| |
| I think of the childish tantrums |
| When you couldn't have your way |
| And you thought how mean your parents were |
| And knew they'd "be sorry some day." |
| |
| Sorry we loved you enough to care |
| What kind of childhood you had? |
| No, son, all we wanted was to see you
become |
| As fine a man as your Dad. |
| |
| So when there are times that you think we're
too strict |
| And the answer too often is "no" |
| When it seems that we're nagging and just
finding fault |
| With your driving, your companions, the things
that you say |
| And the places you go |
| Be patient, I ask you, don't judge us too hard |
| Our lessons have scarcely begun |
| It's often confusing and baffling to read |
| The mind of a teenaged son. |
