The Fieldtrips of a Homeschooled Child

A little poem I wrote some time ago while stuck in an office with all my siblings

I sometimes wish this day would end,
And we could go back home again.
The kids they scream, the kids they yell,
The baby just now cried and fell.

The field-trips of a homeschooled child,
Are not the same, they're rough and wild!
For when you have nine kids along,
They often describe you as a throng!

And when those kids are brother-brother,
And the teacher is their mother,
And the girls are sister-sister,
(Not to mention all the blisters)

It often gets to where your option,
Is yelling out "I'm an adoption!"