A Toddler’s Lament
To eat, or not to eat – that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The peas and carrots of outrageous meal-times
Or to take arms against a sea of vegetables
And by chucking them on the floor – end them.
‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To skip straight to pudding,
to eat – perchance some ice-cream: ay, there’s the grub,
For in that bowl of food – what veg may come
(cunningly hidden by Mum under the pasta!)
When we have shuffled off this mortal high-chair,
Mum gives us a biscuit. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the fruit and veg of tea-time?
The pangs of hunger – delayed,
When Mummy herself, quietus makes,
By giving me a Petite Filous,
And scraping my veggie pasta into the bin.
( and William Shakespeare.)