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.