Food And Me
I am two years old this year. Most people may not know it, but I have a thinking and working brain. It is just not properly connected to the other parts of my body yet. I do understand what large humans speak of, and I do have my viewpoints. I just cannot seem to take control of my mouth. It speaks for itself.
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I hate the food Mother serves me. It makes my poo smell like rotten peas. Why can't I eat all the other junk food large humans eat? I heard Mother mentioning once that fast food is bad for the body and if we eat it, we will die. I wonder sometimes, since we are going to die anyway, why not just have some fun before we die? But then again, Mother is always right.
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I like the sweet little brown bits Mother gives me sometimes. They were chipped of large brown bars. They give me little headaches sometimes. I really like them a lot. They taste sweet and melt my mouth, absorbing my baby warmth, becoming part of me. I wonder who makes these brown things. Who cares anyway. As long as they taste good, it's okay.
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I saw Big Brother eating little green trees the other day. He puked all over Mother when Mother was burping him. Mother now has a spotted green shirt, just like the one I saw at Bossini the other day. I will never eat little green trees when I grow bigger.
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I heard Father telling Mother that she was tired the other day. Father wanted Mother to put me in a daycare centre (I use British spelling). Though she was reluctant, she found a place for me, but it didn't work out as I was too small. They liked bigger children. My heart sank into the shallow abyss of my little baby tummy. I almost thought I could have a chance to taste food of higher standard.
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I want to be a chef for little people when I grow bigger. I do not want little people like me in the future to suffer what I am going through right now. I want to be selfless and care for everyone but myself. This is what me as a model member of my society must do.
(320 words)
~~GW