The Pixie was hungry.
I baked her bread.
I cut two thick pieces.
Per her request I spread on the butter and jam.
I gave her half a banana to go with it.
I put it on her favorite pink plate.
I went back and got her ice water.
I stood back in triumph.
She said,
“Mom, sometimes you are mean.”
Then she added,
“And too, where do ogres grow?”
They grow in ungrateful kitchens child.