Matthew and Mathilda and the Meatloaf

Matthew and Mathilda had a kind and caring mother,
In almost every area, she triumphed over others.
By day, she took them skating, to the zoo, the beach, and park,
By night, she banished monsters, who lay lurking in the dark.
She helped them with their homework, joked and sang, and read them stories
But she had just one small weakness, despite her many glories.

She thought herself a gourmet chef, a goddess of cuisine,
And cooked curry-couscous casseroles of perplexing, putrid green.
She made meatball manicotti, and Moroccan mutton stew,
And when her children wouldn't eat it, she did not know what to do.

"Matthew and Mathilda, why must you be so spoiled?
For, I went to all this trouble, and I chopped, and stirred, and broiled
To make my special casserole, in this lovely shade of green,
So shut your mouths and eat it, and stop making such a scene!
For the kids in Third World countries aren't as lucky as you two,
So you'll sit there till your plates are clean, and don't move till you're through!

But as Mom grew more adventurous, the meals became more weird,
And one casserole tried to bite them back, or so Mathilda feared.
And then one fateful afternoon, while playing in the yard,
The kids smelled something pungent. What could be in the cards
For their next impending dinnertime? The children couldn't tell,
But they'd smelled this odour many times, and knew it very well.

It resembled dirty gym socks, with a hint of gasoline,
And freshly-cut grass clippings, of unruly, tousled green,
Mixed with stagnant, stuck-on lava, on a science-classroom ceiling,
But whatever Mom was mixing up, it couldn't be appealing!

So when the clock struck six o'clock, their mother called them in,
And so the kids came inside, with foreboding and chagrin.
They sat down at the table, held their noses, said a prayer,
And challenged one another, in a silent double dare
To sample this concoction, for how awful could it be?
But the children's strength was tested when their supper they did see.

Said Matthew to Mathilda in a tone of speculation,
"Is this dish a plate of boogers, or just my imagination?"
To which their mom responded, in a tone of utter fury,
"Those 'boogers' you're insulting are my famous barley curry!
So, to criticize my cooking, you children have no right!
And beside that lovely side dish is the main course for tonight,
A divine quinoa meatloaf, full of fibre and protein,
So try it, and stop being such a whiny drama queen!
For, this very special meatloaf is a yummy, healthy treat,
And the thing that makes it special is, it isn't really meat!"

So Matthew and Mathilda each took just a tiny bite,
'Cause their folks had always told them that it wasn't quite polite
To reject a meal that someone's cooked, unless you taste it first,
But this "meatloaf" was so sickening, they spat it out and cursed!

"Oh, Mother!" said Mathilda, "You know we love you so,
But when it comes to cooking, there is something you should know.
Your culinary flights of fancy all-too-often crash,
And now, this meatloaf smells and tastes of stinky feet and trash.
You make wonderful Kraft Dinner, and Ernie-faced fried eggs,
But please, never make this dish again," Mathilda cried and begged.

Said Matthew, "Yes, Mathilda's right, I hate to burst your bubble,
Especially since, to cook this meal, you went to so much trouble.
But the flavour of this meatloaf is not savoury or sweet,
Or anything approaching what a human being could eat."

Mother countered in her "Mommy voice," that allowed for no nonsense,
"This meatloaf is delicious, and the hassle and expense
That went into its production, means it shouldn't go to waste,
But if you're both so adamant, then I will have a taste."

So Mother dug right in, with an enthusiastic gumption,
Despite her children's rude complaints, and spoiled-brat compunctions.
The children watched with bated breath as Mother ate her words,
Such a showdown at the table had ne'er-before occured.
Mother looked back at her children, blushing fifty shades of red,
And apologized profusely for the falsehoods she had said.

"Matthew and Mathilda, I'm so sorry for my doubt
About your dislike of this meal, so let us now head out
To the nearest fast-food restaurant, of bland and greasy fare,
I'm sure that nothing THIS gross can be replicated there.
In the meantime, let me feed this meal to our dear puppy Moe,
For, he'll eat almost anything. Now, get your coats, let's go!!!"

But when the family came back home, they couldn't believe their eyes,
For, sitting in Moe's dog dish (to everyone's surprise)
Was an untouched piece of meatloaf, declined by even Moe,
Whose stomach and gag reflex, no limits did they know.

So Mom threw out the meatloaf, in the compost heap out back,
And her two still-giggling children cut their mom a little slack.
For they knew their mom meant well, with her nutritious, ethnic fare,
About culture and good nourishment, they knew their mother cared.
But from that evening forward, her children she believed,
When they claimed a meal inedible, and told her they were skeeved
By the odour, taste, or colour, or the texture of the food,
She'd make them PBJ's instead of saying they were rude.