Spaghetti is slimy, squiggly too.
It tickles my throat; tastes just like glue.
I don’t know why grown-ups think it is so great.
Wish something else was sitting on my plate.
Why don’t they ask me, what I want to eat?
‘Stead of making me swallow stuff like meat.
I’d rather have carrots all cut up in sticks.
Celery with peanut butter is my favorite pick.
Apples are great all chopped up in sauce.
He makes me eat what he wants, ‘cause he is the boss.
Won’t know how to choose what to eat for myself,
If I don’t get to pick different stuff from the shelf.
Please, please let me try, I’m smarter than you think.
I can scramble eggs quick as a wink.
I can make my own meals, I can do it, I can.
Then I’ll wash all the dishes and turn off the fan.