In the light of the moon, a little egg lay waiting.
One candlelit evening, after a romantic dinner and a few martinis, the egg was, well, bombarded. And… pop! It started to grow.
When the egg was discovered, the parents were ecstatic. They immediately dubbed the little egg “Chip.” Because, as they explained to their daughter, it was only the size of a chocolate chip.
But as “Chip” grew and grew, it created a tiny, and very hungry little momma.
She started to look for some food.
The first trimester was rough. She ate through 6 boxes of Saltine crackers, a dozen 2-litres of Ginger Ale, and a ginormous bag of lemon drops.
Alas, even though she felt like ralphing all the time, she was still hungry. It’s just that nothing sounded appealing.
But by the second trimester, her appetite returned with a vengeance. She ate through 10 rotisserie chickens, 23 Big Mac Meals (super sized, of course), countless slices of pepperoni pizza and a 5-gallon tub of Red Vine licorice.
And she was still hungry.
By the third trimester, she was on a roll. She was eating through a jelly donut every morning, as well as any other food that dared stand in her way.
But she was still hungry.
Sometimes, after hoovering all of the non-perishable edibles in the house, she’d have a tummy ache. Her doctor called it heartburn. She ate through one bottle of Tums. After that, she felt much better.
And after that, she wasn’t hungry anymore. Because there simply wasn’t any room on her little frame left to accommodate any more food. And she also wasn’t a little momma anymore. She had gained almost 50 pounds, and was now a big momma. She was ready to burst.
So she made a nursery and decorated it lovingly with stars and cowboy hats fitting for a little buckaroo. She nested. She cocooned.
One night, she was awoken by some strange stirrings from within the cocoon. They made their way to the hospital.
Where they waited.
And waited some more.
Through multiple episodes of Cash Cab. Through a dozen games of solitaire. Through nine hours of watching the lines of the contractions make pretty little hills and valleys up and down the paper.
In the midst of this she felt a familiar rumbling in her stomach. She was hungry.
She asked for food. A banana, a cracker, a jelly donut… anything besides popsicles and water. She pleaded. They denied.
“It won’t be long now,” they told her. “Just a little while longer, and then we’ll get you something to eat.”
So she waited some more. And, finally, it was time for him to arrive.
And when he emerged? She suddenly forgot getting something to eat. She instantly forgot about the months of morning sickness, and the pain. She forgot about how tired she was, or the ravenous hunger that gnawed at her belly.
All she could think was that he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
Happy belated birthday to my sweet Chip. How did two years fly by so fast?