It's quite simple . . .
When the baby's on the nipple and her appetite is triple,
And the mama in pajamas don't have time to take a piddle,
Then the binky and the bottle start to look a great deal better
Than the triple nipple-feedings in the middle of the rabble.
When the baby starts to toddle with the bottle and the binky
And she babbles (while she waddles with her dolly) indistinctly,
Then the stinky binky needs to join the bottle in the rubble
That her baffling babbling patter won't bewilder and befuddle.
The baby isn't fickle, in fact she's rather tricky
And she hides her sticky binkies places Mama never thinkies.
In bins and beds and blankies, baby hides them with a winky
And pulls them out and waves them on her teeny tiny pinky.
And puts Mama in a pickle, for she knows it's so much better
To break the binky habit lest the orthodontists get her.
But the binky junkie prattles, battling battered, fettered Mama
At bedtime, earning tickles amid startling binkied giggles.
But the battle turns quite bitter and the baby turns much redder
When her rinky-dinky binky stash gets shrinkier and deader.
And because the toddling stink has Mama wrapped around her finger,
She gets plastic crippling nipples plus a private bedtime singer.