Happy Mother’s Day, dear reader!  In honor of this auspicious day, I’ve written a poem.  It’s called Take Yo Mama to Brunch.  To wit:

Take yo mama to brunch,
Oh, don’t you dare delay,
She’s dealt with all your bullshit,
Now it’s her time to play.

She’s wrangled your tantrums,
Survived your disgusting smells,
And answered your dumbass questions,
Like, “Do pickles have shells?”

Now she deserves towers
Of waffles and cream,
A buttery croissant
And an endless mimosa stream.

Pile her plate with pancakes,
(Bacon on the side!)
chocolate-dipped bananas
And some sort of French toast slide.

The waiter arrives
With quiche in his grip,
But Mom grabs her fork
And takes a wild dip!

She’ll laugh as she slurps
From a fruit smoothie shoe,
Then orders an omelet
Made for an entire crew.

You’ll sit there observing,
Mouth open, aghast,
How can one tiny mama
Eat so goddamn fast?

Then she’ll pat her tummy,
Smiling and sly,
“Oh sweetie, what’s next?
Shall we order some pie?”

Take yo mama to brunch,
She’s earned every bite,
But don’t you dare forget
To tip her just right.

For her love is a buffet,
Endless and true,
And that’s why your mama
Deserves a brunch for two (or three…or nineteen, depending on how many her appetite can destroy in one sitting).

N.P.: “Take Your Mama” – Scissor Sisters