To help you with pregnancy, we are providing you with some funny limericks to make you smile.
Hardly a week goes by at the pub but someone is passing out virtual cigars, which of course, are not actually intended for smoking for we are excruciatingly correct at Molly’s Pub. The old custom serves, however, as a convenient way for the young men to avoid the newly popular announcement:
“We’re P r e g n a n t !”
...which causes some of them to pale.
In this room, where the rhythmic squeak of rocking chairs keeps time to the strains of Mozart (which is good for baby’s developing brain) the beverages have quaint names like Virgin Mary and Virgin Colada, the only of their kind to be found here among the fecund.
Tales of pregnancy, like the veteran’s war story, become ever more vivid in the telling, a uniquely female epic to rival Homer and Virgil’s. Should you ever need to fill an uncomfortable silence, that is, one p r e g n a n t with tension, merely ask the nearest mother about her pregnancies, then nod occasionally, and try not to let your eyes glaze over.
Molly comes here to dispense unsolicited advice served up with a soupçon of old wives’ tales, which the young women receive, of course, with breath properly bated. Kathleen, however, trolls for news of upcoming baby showers and the odd opportunity to purchase the tiniest frilly pink dresses to be found at the department stores, a widely shared female addiction that men hardly suspect.
The room reeks of wholesomeness, and in truth, the only wicked thing here—and how wicked could such a fine anti-oxidant be?—is the abundance of chocolate. It is eaten for the baby’s sake, for sugar is the most important nutrient for the developing brain, and if you have information to the contrary kindly keep it to yourself
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