I love you when you’re pregnant,
I love you when you’re not.
I love you when your hair’s a mess,
and your shirt is smeared with snot.
I love you when you’re slim and trim,
and your figure looks real fine.
But most of all I love you dear
because you’re mine, all mine.
Your shape and size counts little,
when I look upon the group,
of happy, smiling faces,
that’s grown into a troupe.
The love and joy you’ve helped create
is worth the suffering and the pain.
A big round stomach sounds just great,
and so the answer to us both is growing very plain.
Move over baby Nicholas it’s baby time again !
(c) 1998 C. W. (Chuck) Aldridge All Rights Reserved