Slack Tide: Everything you want to know about snow but were too afraid to ask<\/a>]<\/ins><\/p>\nThis week’s super-non-controversial substitute opinion: Kids should eat their dinner. There! Take issue with that!<\/p>\n
And to make sure I don’t slip in any righteous indignation, I’ll address this subject in rhyming heroic couplets. After all, nothing rhymes with “selfish refusal to acknowledge reality.”<\/p>\n
Ahem…<\/p>\n
In a house like your house, on a street like your street<\/p>\n
A little girl’s family sat down to eat.<\/p>\n
Their dinner plates heaped with meat-starch-veg<\/p>\n
And a bowl with tomatoes and a crisp iceberg wedge.<\/p>\n
“Salt,” Daddy said. “Ketchup,” asked brother.<\/p>\n
“Don’t talk with your mouths full,” said the girl’s mother.<\/p>\n
The girl, herself, was less than enthused.<\/p>\n
To dine, yet again, she simply refused.<\/p>\n
You see, every night she pulled the same shtick<\/p>\n
Poking and prodding, not eating a lick (not even licking a lick—that’s a pretty neat trick!)<\/p>\n
Waiting it out was her usual scheme<\/p>\n
And then, maybe later, a little ice cream?<\/p>\n
But tonight her mother put her foot down.<\/p>\n
“I’ve had it, that’s it,” she said with a frown.<\/p>\n
“That’s quite enough of this no-dinner stuff.<\/p>\n
Tonight, you are eating. Don’t like it? Well, tough.”<\/p>\n
“We’ll see,” the girl said, cutting pieces real small<\/p>\n
To wad up in her napkin rolled into a ball.<\/p>\n
But the little girl’s mother was not to be fooled.<\/p>\n
“Better eat up, before it’s all cooled.”<\/p>\n
“I mean it,” she added, dinner congealing<\/p>\n
Foul and disgusting and most unappealing<\/p>\n
As the family finished, the young girl was stricken.<\/p>\n
Sickened by chicken she’d left to let thicken.<\/p>\n
Her salad looked pallid, peas smelled of disease<\/p>\n
Mashed potatoes now play dough, rock-hard broccolis.<\/p>\n
And there sat her brother, to make matters worse<\/p>\n
Happily forking down double dessert.<\/p>\n
“Please,” the girl begged, “can I just have some cake?”<\/p>\n
“No,” said Mom, Dad nodding, “and make no mistake.”<\/p>\n
“On this point, young lady, there’ll be no debate:<\/p>\n
You won’t leave the table ‘til you finish that plate.”<\/p>\n
With brother excused—“that was delicious!”<\/p>\n
Mom and Dad started to tackle the dishes.<\/p>\n
Leaving the girl to sit there and stare<\/p>\n
At her uneaten dinner, alone in her chair.<\/p>\n
But some kids are stubborn, and the girl pushed back.<\/p>\n
Figuring sooner or later her mother would crack. (But mom didn’t crack; she dug in, in fact.)<\/p>\n
The girl ate not a morsel, Mom budged not at all.<\/p>\n
Dad tried to make peace, he was sent down the hall.<\/p>\n
“This is between my daughter and me.”<\/p>\n
“Get out of here, daddy, please let us be.”<\/p>\n
An hour more passed, then two, then three.<\/p>\n
No break from the table, not even to pee.<\/p>\n
(Thinking this standoff might postpone for bed?<\/p>\n
Sadly, it doesn’t. Here’s what happens instead.)<\/p>\n
“Getting late,” mom said. “Will you please eat at last?”<\/p>\n
Arms crossed, head shaking, the girl stood fast.<\/p>\n
“Okay, but you’ll sit here, no matter how late.<\/p>\n
You won’t leave the table ‘til you finish that plate.”<\/p>\n
Then Mom went upstairs, flipping on one small light<\/p>\n
Under which girl and meal spent a very looooonnnnngggggg night.<\/p>\n
Next day when she woke, had it all been a dream?<\/p>\n
Coffee… PJs… plain old weekend morning, it seemed.<\/p>\n
But while the rest all ate waffles, there, sure as heck was<\/p>\n
The little girl’s dinner, now served for breakfast.<\/p>\n
“How ‘bout now,” mom asked. “Ready to eat?”<\/p>\n
The girl’s mouth dropped; she squirmed in her seat.<\/p>\n
Still, she held strong and stuck to her guns<\/p>\n
Despite the temptation of fresh cinnamon buns.<\/p>\n
“Nothing,” said mom, “‘til your dinner’s all ate.<\/p>\n
You won’t leave the table ‘til you finish that plate.”<\/p>\n
And on it went day by day, and the next, and the next and the next and the next<\/p>\n
Lasting much, much, much longer than one would expect.<\/p>\n
And though, for some reason, she never got thinner<\/p>\n
The girl took not one bite of that dinner.<\/p>\n
Weeks became months became years then decades<\/p>\n
Little Blonde stayed and the food still remained.<\/p>\n
Her brother grew up, her parents grew old<\/p>\n
They retired down south, and their house had been sold.<\/p>\n
“Well,” rasped her mother, “how about now?”<\/p>\n
“Nope,” the girl said. “I won’t stomach this chow.”<\/p>\n
“Then have it your way, if that is your fate.<\/p>\n
You won’t leave the table ‘til you finish your plate.”<\/p>\n
So the stalemate went on into posterity<\/p>\n
Just some food, a girl and her childish temerity.<\/p>\n
They became an exhibit in a future museum<\/p>\n
Where parents took fussy non-eaters to see ‘em.<\/p>\n
To warn of what happens and who is the winner<\/p>\n
Of generational conflict re: the eating of dinner.<\/p>\n
Of course this was not what the girl intended.<\/p>\n
Now regretting her position so staunchly defended.<\/p>\n
Why hadn’t she downed just a few measly bites?<\/p>\n
With that the girl found herself back on that very first night.<\/p>\n
“Okay, you win,” she said and mom laughed.<\/p>\n
“Then I’ll make you a deal,” mom said. “Just eat half.”<\/p>\n
\n\u2022 Geoff Kirsch is an award-winning Juneau-based writer and humorist. \u201cSlack Tide\u201d appears twice monthly in Neighbors.<\/em><\/b><\/p>\n
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