the invites for birthday party season roll in. and my anxiety level increases as my sons realize that their cake is different. our family is different. that their mother is a nutritional dictator. {that could be a great resume addition for the 5 year gap of SAHM}
{with apologies to dr. seuss. you legacy lives on each night at bedtime}.
now to butcher your greatest work.
Every mom down in neurotypicalville liked birthday parties a lot, but the momnivore, who lived just north of neurotypicalville – did not.
momnivore hated birthday parties – the whole balloon popping season.
Now, please do ask why; you should all know the reason.
It could be, perhaps, that the dyes on the cake were too bright.
Or it could be that the other moms in neurotypicalville didn’t understand her gluten-free fight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all… may have been that some moms down in neurotypicalville had hearts two sizes too small.
But, whatever the reason, the dyes or the fight, momnivore stood there at birthday parties hating the sight.
Staring down from her soapbox, with a sour gluten-free frown, at the warm, lighted birthday cake and a scary rented clown.
For momnivore knew that every mom down in neurotypicalville beneath was busy now, ordering a sheet cake her kids can’t eat, with colors too bright, and frosting too sweet.
Very well written.
I always bring food for my son to eat at parties. The food he gets are always his very favourite special treats that can only be eaten on special occasions. That way he knows he’s getting something special.
Fortunately I haven’t had the “I want to eat what they’re eating!” demands yet. I dread the day when he does say it.
Awww. That must be so hard for you to have to do! Great poem, by the way.
That poem is wonderful. It’s always a struggle….but you are doing the best for your kiddos. Thanks for sharing this!