Why I Love Babies In Highchairs

I remember when the little fellow came home;
he didn't need a brush or any kind of comb.
All he did was sleep, cry, and create nice odors,
now he eats and makes the sounds of little motors.

I get yummy airborne treats flung from his highchair;
sometimes I get lucky and catch them in midair.
Sure, I get yelled at if I try to lick the tray.
I don't see why, it has to be cleaned anyway.

He can fling delicious food all around the room;
I have learned to be quick before Mom gets the broom.
Sometimes I will whimper and he'll drop the whole plate;
he starts to laugh and giggle, but I think it's great.

His tiny fingers are delectable to taste,
none of the little morsels ever go to waste.
Yes, he's my new best friend and I'm his special pup;
he makes quite the mess and I'm glad to clean it up.