I’d love to eat out like a toddler.
I’d find it incredibly fun.
To rock up in some fancy restaurant,
And act like I’m aged about one.
So first I’d object to the seating.
“I shan’t sit in that my dear friend!”
I shall thwart your attempts to persuade me,
By flat out refusing to bend.
And then I shall grab for the menus.
A knife and whatever I can.
‘Til my table is cleared of obstructions,
And my foodspace is empty – Good plan!
My meal shall be duly presented,
I shall cautiously give it the eye,
Then loudly announce “It is Yucky!”
Without even having a try.
I’ll reach out with one grubby finger
And poke it to see if it’s dead.
Then pick up my fork and lean over,
And pinch someone else’s instead.
My chips shall be sauce applicators,
For shovelling ketchup at pace,
I’ll guzzle down half of the bottle,
Then rub the rest into my face.
I’ll carefully pick every pea up,
And launch every one on the floor,
Then point at the ground in frustration,
And whinge until given some more.
But if I’m not keen on the green bits,
I’ll blow raspberries and spit them all out,
And watch as my audience stifles a grin,
and one of them tries not to shout.
I’ll pick up a gravy soaked sausage,
and place it with love in my hair,
Then grin at the (silent) next table,
Whilst I try to escape from my chair.
I’ll just bide my time until ice cream,
Then frantically bash with my spoon,
And shovel it in with distinct lack of grace,
Shouting “Om Nom Nom Nom!!” like a loon.
There shall not be time for a coffee.
I’ll want to immediately leave.
Waiting for bills is just boring,
I shall freak like you wouldn’t believe.
And as we abandon the restaurant,
(For which someone else had to pay),
They’ll get home all stuffed stressed and grumpy….
… “Mummy I hungry!” I’ll say! :0)
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