A client’s mom shared this poem with me recently. It was written about 45 years ago by her mom about her brother.
…Does everything by fits and starts,
Runs the gamut of manly arts,
Works five minutes on model planes,
Makes dirty marks on the window panes,
Concentrates on spinning a top,
Teases his sisters ’til told to stop,
Tries to think of something to do,
Idly thumbs through a book or two,
The trouble with this man of parts,
He has more fits than finished starts.
–Marguerite Whitley May