Help! I'm covered in Petit Filous

Help! I'm covered in Petit Filous!
It's all over me and it's all over you.
It's gone on the cat and on Daddy's shoes,
Why did I give you that spoon to use?
You're only 10 months and you've got to learn how,
But I don't think it's sweat dripping down Mummy's brow.

I've cleaned this floor twice now, and that's just today,
But what you want food for aint eating, it's play,
And Mummy is mean if she takes it away.
Tell me now, please, is there some other way?
I wail on my knees while I'm scrubbing the floor,
"Surely this is not what my life's work's meant for!"

And sometimes I wonder would it really be rude
To have our all mealtimes entirely nude?
It'd save on my washing, it might be a laugh
And time-saving to stick naked you in the bath.
But I'm saying 'oh bother' instead of a curse,
And thinking that chocolate just might have been worse.

Three meals a day, seven days in a week.
I know each one's special, each one is unique -
But how many, pray tell me, just how many more,
Til he learns how to eat and I'm freed from this chore!

(Based on his sister, another 18 months... sigh.)