Which Matters More?

Come in, but don't expect to find
All dishes done or floors ashine.
You'll see bread crumbs and toys galore
And Baby's prints upon the door.

Our little ones we shelter here
Don't grow in a spotless atmosphere.
They're quite relaxed in disarray,
And spend their hours in carefree play.

Their needs are great and patience small;
All day I'm at their beck and call.
It's 'Mama, come!' and 'Mama, see!',
Wiggly worms or a scraped-up knee.

Tractors, dolls and blocks piled high,
My floor's unshined while the days pass by.
But then I think, which matters more?
A happy child or a polished floor?

I'm not one for writing poems, but I do love reading them. Somehow this one just exactly fits my life right now!