On any given Sunday...
…Clean the plate or it’s denying the cake…
Let no be no unless grandpa is deemed judge of overrule…
My eyes and nostrils always lead the battle between fork
and tongue.
If they spoke resist, my stomach obeyed, but mama didn’t
care for rebellion.
In grandpa’s house mama’s rules didn’t govern his table.
In my only sanctuary of spoiling he’d remove my plate of offense,
and grant me a sugary
pardon.
Victory tasted a bit like chocolate icing…
Comments
I really love the story you've told us, how clear you show the interaction between child and grandparents... and the chocolate icing ending--best victory ever!