I may have already blogged it, I can’t remember anymore. I wrote it for my sister when she needed something to read at her son’s playgroup. Unfortunately she did not deem it appropriate for Michigan mommies and it has languished unsung ever since.
It’s the end of all laughter, cause now you’re a mom.
Can’t talk on the phone, cause babies are rude.
Why not a puppy? So much less drool.
Babies only work for the ego of dad.
But no nannies, or lypo, or gorgeous fake hair.
It’s really quite horrid, but to show I still care,
Here’s a poem for your playgroup, with love, from Aunt Mare.