The day my baby brother was born,
I ate green beans from a plastic plate.
It was covered in tin foil wrap.
July 24, 1980 was the summertime date.
My grandparents cooked vegetable soup,
And it sat in the middle of the kitchen table.
It looked quite gross in the glass jar,
And my stomach felt upset and unstable.
But the neighbor brought green beans,
Wondering when my brother would be home.
My third birthday was two days later,
And I had “Happy Birthday” July syndrome.
With balloons and streamers and chocolate milk,
We played many rounds of “Duck, Duck Goose.”
On the orange-checkered kitchen carpet,
We ate a train cake with a candy caboose.
But my brother wasn’t home yet,
So I opened my gifts and waited for my mom.
My dad burned the cheese sandwiches,
And I tried my very best to stay calm.
When my baby brother finally came home,
He looked so tiny and incredibly small,
But he never stayed in the crib alone.
He climbed from his bed and up the wall.
And as he got older, he ate down the house.
He loved ice cream, desserts, and special cuisine.
He liked pepperoni pizza and Stromboli wraps,
But his favorite food of all was green beans.
Copyright 2019 Jennifer Waters
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