To the choirmaster. A Psalm of Abigail.
1 Hear my voice, O God, in my complaint;
preserve my sanity from dread of my own children.
2 Hide me from the secret gripings of the dissatisfied,
from the crowd of cranky three,
3 who find fault with every summer class,
who ask for sweets and TV after every outing,
4 ambushing me with requests as I walk through the house,
"At least can't we . . ." and "But I never get to . . . "
they say in high pitched tones.
5 They hold fast to their evil purpose;
they talk of laying snares secretly,
thinking, "This might work.”
6 They search out vacillations,
saying, “We shall find her weak spot.”
For the inward mind and heart of a child are relentless.
7 But God douses them with his laws;
they receive reality-checks suddenly.
8 Their schemes are brought to ruin,
with their own tongues, they lose privileges;
all who see them wag their heads.
9 Then all the elderly chuckle;
they recall their own child-rearing days
and rejoice that it is over.
10 Let the satisfied parent rejoice in the Lord
and take refuge in him
not in their children's good behavior!
Let all the principled in heart rejoice
even when her children don't!
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