What was that, Dear?

She always gives me compliments.
I think that’s really nice.
But I pretend that I don’t hear
so she will tell me twice.

I’m not sure if she is sincere,
or I’ve misunderstood.
But I will take them just the same.
Sometimes that’s just as good.

And then, of course, to be polite,
I compliment her back.
Of all my failures, all my faults,
good manners I don’t lack.

There is no competition here.
No one is keeping score.
She always says how sweet I am.
(I wait ‘til she says more.)

So that is how we keep the peace.
We do it with a smile.
(But since she has to tell me twice
I’m leading by a mile.)