Fidgety Philip - ADHD remixed

Below is the original Story of Fidgety Philip. Written by Heinrich Hoffman published in German in 1844, then in English in 1846.

I wanted to try to re-story Philip, he is thought to be one o f our earliest recorded cases of what is now thought of as pretty classic behaviours of a child diagnosed with ADHD.

I wanted to see if Philip could be recast as the sympathetic hero, instead of the villian. I wanted to approach him with compassion and understanding.

The images are the original poem, the following three stanzas are my proposed re-write. I would love to know what you think.

Jesse

The Ballad of Fidgety Phil

Philip was called once more to the table,

his parents, he knew, wish he be stable.

The settings all laid, the tablecloth spread,

Philip was taken with terrible dread.

With a glance a papa, Philip knew,

the place from which his wildness grew.

Mama sat serene as stone,

'till Philip moved, then she groaned.

Their misgivings lit a fire within,

his body filled with irredeemable sin.

Nervousness in his body gained,

wriggle he did, as though he was in pain.

Philip began to rock in a groove

he knew his insides soon would be soothed.

Papa yelled, "Philip, I am getting cross!"

Philip felt caught, he knew this dinner was lost.

The motor within, kicked up in haste,

Philip wanted to run all over the place.

Papa was angry, and mama was pale,

his rudeness they'd said, had made grandma frail.

As he rocked to still his racing heart,

Fidget and fumbling had become an art.

Suddenly lost, his balance and mind

he tipped over backward, and reaching to find,

grasping at straws, a tablecloth found,

didn't cease his plummet straight to the ground.

As cutlery clattered, tinkled, and crashed

both mama and papa were really quite brash.

Not seeking his state, his health or his feeling,

The dinner was ruined, and that sent them reeling.

Not wanting to bear the brunt of their anger,

The tablecloth served as his own private hanger.

He hid from their shame, but also his own,

That he couldn't sit still, as serene as a stone.

He wasn't like others, couldn't papa just see,

That fidgetless and still is what he could not be.

He wanted to run, and climb and shout,

He struggled with dinners where nothing fun was about.\

He was curious and questioned the way things were done,

He wanted to know all there was under the sun.

Philip would rather they eat dinner in peace,

He has the problem, he knew that at least.

So mama kept scowling, and papa went on,

telling Philip he's not as good as their neighbor's son.

Philip believed them, and stayed in his mess,

But none of this to them, would he ever confess