You refuse to eat green bean casserole
that isn’t your mother’s

and you don’t eat sushi, mayo, or mushrooms,
but I still want to make you dinner.

I’m not sure if you’ve ever eaten a whole tomato,
and you’re at least a little afraid of vegetables.

You prefer croutons to lettuce,
but I can’t stop telling you bad puns about salads.

You can’t eat cinnamon without an epipen
and pronounce caramel as “car-mel,”

You swear up and down
that brownie batter is better than brownies,

but one day,
I’ll feed you

with my fingers,
a brownie fresh from the oven

and watch as your eyes close
in pleasure as you chew,

and you will understand.


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