I call myself Daddy

I call myself Daddy
as I push him down the street.
We stop to buy apples and I let them
admire him, act proud when they say
he looks like his Dad.
I worked out the dates though
and there’s no way he’s mine,
I was in France, didn’t come back
that month. Couldn’t have done it,
not from France.
I think he knows, just three months
he knows, he’s a clever little thing.
We’ll wait, we will,
and soon we’ll go.