I made him a coffee, piping hot,
Before he could get out, of his cot.
He said the coffee was, neither hot nor strong,
And I wish I had slept, a little more long!
I made him dosa, as thin as paper,
Little realizing, his interest in dosa, would dramatically taper!
He said, dosa was not filling,
And my culinary experiments, were killing!
I prepared for him, fresh babycorn soup,
But even then, his jaws didn't droop!
I made for him, cashewnut-strewn rice pongal,
He said with it too, I did bungle!
I offered him rava upma,
He quipped, it could be best prepared, only by his amma!
I realized it was difficult to please his palate,
And left him at the breakfast, with an empty plate!
