Broccoli and Cheese balls Faux Canvas Print
A sarcastic poem for mom's (especially those with picky eaters). Poem reads: On the menu today is broccoli with a side of Cheese balls because my child will only eat something green if it is accompanied by something orange and cheesy. When did I become a negotiator between food groups? Somewhere between chicken nuggets & Brussel sprouts I suppose. I've often resorted to disguising the "icky green stuff" with sauce which results in distorted faces of disgust and screams so loud the vegetables want to jump off the table themselves. When did parents become private chefs to disgruntled patrons? Where the customers often complain in a language only the other patrons understand. I believe they often plan strikes and protests just to see what color the chef (mommy) will turn next. I long for the day when I can make a meal balanced with colors as plentiful as a field of flowers and the tiny customers would look up at me, smile and say "Thank you Mom for making dinner"
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