She chomped and slurped and strived to
become the apple of his eye.
It was a piece of cake to butter him up. She wanted to because

this guy was the icing on the cake...
this guy was the big cheese...
this guy was not a bad egg.

She tried not to make herself a fish out of the water
by staying calm as a cucumber when they talked.
But he thought she appeared nutty as a fruitcake.

Finally, she gave up putting
all her eggs in his basket...
But a week later, something was fishy.

He was in the soup.
And she had a bun in the oven.
This was going to be a hot potato.

She walked on eggshells
as he ended up with egg on his face.
"It's no good crying over spilled milk,” he moaned.

“We have bigger fish to fry,” she said.
And nine months later,
she was keen as mustard to see him and welcome the blue-eyed boy.

She had to bring home the bacon for the little pumpkin.
He was going to be full of beans.
But that’s the way the cookie crumbled.