I get the cake and the presents, but it was my mom who did all the hard work.
The morning sickness, the bulging waistline, the months of carrying the extra weight, the
fat clothes, the labor pains, THE pain. And if all that’s not enough, I’m born on a rainy Sunday morning. She has to miss church.
But I get the chocolate cheesecake and ice cream.
It doesn’t seem quite fair.
Someone please call my mother today to congratulate her on the finest work she’s ever done.