For every child who has had to endure the horrors and terrors of a parent going on a diet, then this one is for you. Along with the hope that it’s fish and chips on your dinner menu tonight.
(c) 2009 by Keir Wells
“It’s dinner time,” my mum’s just said. “It’s time to come and eat.”
Can’t bear to think what it might be. I bet it’s silverbeet.
She’s on some faddy diet and for her it’s not that bad
But when it comes to dinner time there’s groans from me and dad.
We walk towards the kitchen to collect our plate and fork
Both me and dad are thinking of a plate of hot roast pork.
Or fish and chips would be real nice or pizza from the shop
Just not that stuff that mum serves up with cottage cheese on top.
So far she’s far lost two kilos and she’s looking pretty good
But can’t she see this skinny boy where once a young man stood?
I look at dad, he looks at me, we share a common aim
That somehow mum must understand we don’t wanna play this game.
But we know when we’re both beaten, we know when our luck’s out,
When we smell from far away another pot of brussel sprout.
A smile from Dad, an elbow nudge, like me he’s had enough,
The car keys out we’re running fast, no more to do it tough.
Now we’re off to Mister Johnno’s, down the road and round the bend
For two dollars’ worth of chips, a battered sav and lots of sauce
I’ve just noticed that the last two lines don’t rhyme as they should do
But food’s much more important than a matching line or two.
Dad’s mobile phone it gives a ring, we know the game is up
He slowly turns the car around, heads home where we will sup.
We’ve tried this many times before, we’ve tried and we have failed,
As on Mum’s boat of diet fads we’ve hoisted flag and sailed.