You mustn't forget, dear father.
Your last name is not Mattel.
Nor is it Hasbro.
Nor is it Playmobil,
Nor is it Sanrio.

You must remember, dear father.
You own no plastic molds.
No silicon gel have you upon your mantle
Or in your bureau.

You may wish me to be a productive and constructive Lego,
Or to live a life as emotionless and sanitary as Hello Kitty.
You can hope my legs stretch as rubber and that
They tan as beautifully baked as Barbie's.
But hope's never done a great deal of good in the toy business, has it?
I can't hope to end up a jewel-toned polymer face
And simply become one.
Nor can you.

I come in a small, yellow plastic tub.
And although we don't know what color I am inside,
Nor what form I'll harden into,
It's best to keep an open mind.
But not an open lid, I beg you.
Playdoh is prone to drying out.