It’s Thanksgiving Day and the table’s all set.
All day in the kitchen I chopped, cooked, and sweat.
The green beans are ready, the potatoes are, too.
The cranberry sauce is a gorgeous red hue.
Sit down, have some stuffing, it’s seasoned just right.
Please tell me you’re going to have at least one small bite.
How about the star of the show: roasted turkey?
Why are your eating habits so freaking quirky?
How can it be that you fear mashed potatoes,
when I’ve seen you eat dirt, rocks, some paper and Playdough?
You’re making a scene, ok, please just stop crying.
My dreams of a calm Thanksgiving are dying.
Fine, just eat the bread. I’m tired. You win.
Once again, I’ll be scraping your plate in the bin.
But if you get scurvy, don’t come looking for me.
It’s not my fault you eat so damn crappily.
Another roll? Go ahead, please help yourself.
But tomorrow get ready for Elf on the Shelf.
Source: www.momsnewsdaily.com
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