2013-12-10T16:31:19-08:00December 10th, 2013|Parenthood|

The art of feeding a three-year-old

I knew I’d have to feed you
but I didn’t know
I’d have to audition for the part

I draw attention in crowds
the way I pretend I am your pit crew
and the ravioli is fuel
that I stuff in your mouth
and yell go go go
each time you pass me

or the way I hand you cashews
as I drive
asking if you remember
how to look like a walrus

cut up apples are two-way radios
porridge is a spy mission for raisins
and the broccoli miss each other
when one is having a party in your belly
and the others are not

but my most dramatic deceit
is when I look as scared as you
and whisper that Annapurna
goddess of food
is rumbling like thunder
when you won’t eat

I remember reading
that she’s actually a really nice goddess
who is concerned with starving people
not picky ones
so I always feel guilty
making her out to be so fierce
not for tricking you
but for casting someone
who didn’t try out
for this play.

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