eat your dinner

 

 

one time i had a dream that i was remembering the time my cousin harold wouldn't eat his dinner back when we were boys.

we were having a river-front picnic. there was celery soup and gorgonzola cheese. there was jazz apples cider and asparagus tips. best of all there was ripe peas with margarine. it was delicious.

 

harold wouldn't eat his dinner. he only wanted to watch the boats go by on the river. we kept telling him that the peas were fantastic. he didn't care.

he ran up and down the edge of the water with his napkin tucked into his shirt. his parents threatened to pack up the picnic back into its wicker basket. that didn't work.  they told him he'd have to spend the evening doing extra multiplication home work. that didn't work either. he wouldn't eat his peas.

each time he ran past us he said "i can float like boat. i can glide like the tide."

all the other people down on the strand, including his parents, shouted "eat your peas!" but he wouldn't.