Good food? “DISGUSTING”

As every Mum knows,
The more effort you make,
To cook wholesome food,
There’s more chance they will hate.

Slaved over for hours,
And crafted with love?
You bet, on the floor,
It soon will be shoved.

“Tonight, lovely soup.
Great for your 5 A DAY.”
“Well, this tastes disgusting”
You’ll soon hear them say.

How about casseroles?
Veg pasta sauces?
Dream on, there’s no way
They’ll eat three hearty courses.

Nutritious meals equal
“Bleurghh, urghhh” and “Yuck!”
Looks of repulsion;
Response: “What’s this muck?”

Try as you might,
To teach them what’s good,
They long for the junk,
And a “Yum” chocolate pud.

You’d make them so happy,
If you could just fix it,
To serve up a menu,
Of burgers and biscuits.

One day they’ll be foodies;
Love flavour adventure.
No frowning or moaning,
No meltdowns or censure.

So, if meal after meal,
All week you’ve been binning,
Resort to fish fingers
And feel like you’re winning.

I do not negotiate with terrorists. Honest.

When all around they run amok.
You feel you’re going mad.
Threat levels reaching “critical”.
Rampaging worse than bad.

Unruly, messy anarchy,
Descent to pure corruption.
Your crazy, little rebels,
They’re weapons of mass destruction.

No negotiation, diplomacy,
Or sweet-talking seems to work.
You try to quell the mutiny,
But they still all go berserk.

A tantrum ticking time bomb,
“You’ve put sweetcorn with the tuna?”
WARNING! Meltdown high alert,
Imploding sense of humour.

You’re the queen of biscuit bribery,
The ambassador of calm.
In a twist of contradiction,
They’re purveyors of smooth charm.

With your wild things on the warpath,
Voice of reason they’ll resist.
But a secret weapon’s up your sleeve –
A cuddle and a kiss.

So, no matter what, keep smiling,
Don’t give up, you’ve got this covered.
Ride out the tantrum terror phase,
Of your dear, extreme beloved.

Having younger siblings,
Has got to be quite tough.
Told to be responsible.
Told off for being rough.

Yes, who’d be the eldest?
It’s true, it can be pants.
Leader of the pack; you bear the brunt,
Of Mummy’s “be good” rants.

Irritating siblings!
They long to be like you.
No question that they hold you back,
From things you want to do.

You do protest, despite their age,
They’re given grown-up favours.
While you ate plain old carrot stix,
They scoff Hula Hoops and Quavers.

I know they seem a pain,
But you are their biggest hero.
They beam at you, they always have,
From time point: minute zero.

I promise one day you will feel,
So thankful for each other.
And be as proud as punch,
To have your sister and your brother.

Know in those precious moments,
When it’s just me and you.
I cherish every second,
And those simple tasks we do.

Lego, Battleships and colouring,
In hot chocolate solitude.
A chance to chat through cares and woes;
My charming little dude.

For you’re the one who rocked my world,
From all I’d known before.
You filled my life with “wow”, and smiles,
And pride for evermore.

You ask me for “just mummy time”,
I’ll make that happen too.
Please never doubt how much you’re loved,
And how much I think of you.