My Poem to Baby

I have finally reached the midpoint in my pregnancy ! 

. . . 

I'm not perfect.

I sit in front of a mirror and pick at my zits at least once a day.

I'm not perfect.

I skip a shower or two just to have more time to play.

I'm not perfect.

Is brushing my teeth really that important today?

I'm not perfect.

The hair on my legs shout "I'm an ogre, hooray!"

I'm not perfect.

Each morning I rawr louder than any mad monster, so run, hide, and pray!

You see, there are somethings I do not like about myself, a little more than what's his name, did not like those green eggs.

I can give you lists.

Name them one by one.

Tell you of all the things I do not like about me.

What I am trying to say is that we all have our flaws, and some have mean claws, but that's the best part of it all.

We have to scrape and try hard, to be best of them all, so one day we can fall into love.

Not with a boy, or even a girl, no silly that's not the right start.

For us to be loved by a spouse or a pal, we must learn that the root to this bud . . .

Is to love you, yourself, and your twenty-two million  plus one flaws.