When you’re tired, you yawn, and start rubbing your eyes
And what you ask me to get you still makes me surprised.
“My Ramones,” you demand as soon as you lay down
And you toss, and you turn until they are found.
So we scour the house, your dad, brother, and me
We search for your Cars from the Disney movie.
It’s not Doc, Flo, or Mac; not even Lightening
It’s the low rider you crave, the cool ’59 Chevy.
“We found them,” I yell as we all bound up the stairs
I plop them in your palm which relieves your despair.
I kiss you goodnight and you smile at me sweetly
You grab your two cars and roll over completely.
I check on you later, with mouth open you’re snoring
On your belly you lie and it’s cars you’re still holding.
You think they are amazing and you love them so much
You’re my sweet little boy who sleeps with cars in his clutch.