Filthy little urchin, dirty little boy—
who could tell from looking that you’d be such a joy?
We never would have chosen you by following our nose,
but when we scraped the dirt off and laundered all your clothes,
we recognized you as our own, devoid of dirt and grime,
and now that you are family and with us all the time,
mud puddles still attract you. Dirt piles call your name.
But now it doesn’t matter. We love you all the same.