Gerard ter Borch, Dutch
“Check It Out, Babe. I Found Your Earbuds,” ca. 1653-54
Oil on panel
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MASTERPIECE #3262
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/// Hartogh holds out his watch to Sibilla.
They do not have much more time until a
maid will come fetch their son.
Unless posing’s soon done,
he’ll get cranky, and scream like Godzilla.
/// With Philippus they don’t wish to tangle.
Though his cap’s at a bold rakish angle,
when his mood shifts that hat
gets pulled off and stomped flat,
then he’ll swallow his Mom’s silver bangle.
/// He disarms with his pink dimpled cheeks
and his smile, which is sweet ‘til he shrieks.
Sometimes cute kids are geeks,
or they’re devious sneaks,
but this boy’s from a long line of freaks.
/// He beams sweetly now— that’s not predictive.
The child’s clothing is stiff and restrictive.
He’ll hold still for a while,
then he’ll lose that bright smile.
When he chafes he turns mean and vindictive.
/// Strangers call young Philippus “a doll.”
“He’s so cute,” they say, (sounding banal).
In time, most realize
that this imp is no prize.
When he’s biting you, cute starts to pall.
/// Father offers his wife calming pills,
which may mask, if not cure, Mother’s ills.
When your self-possessed child,
in a blink, can go wild,
you develop disquiet that kills.
> or <
/// She had five minutes flat to make good;
“throw” her voice through a mouth carved from wood.
No lip readers could prove
that they’d seen her lips move,
but her words couldn’t be understood.