Pregnant

She was stirring the mixture in the cauldron. At intervals she would suddenly throw in more nectar. And then let it swirl. She stirred and stirred and it smelled sweeter with every turn. Everyone wanted a sip. But she kept adding more and stirring, letting it churn. One day, the cauldron began to overflow. It would brim over and she would desperately try to keep it from dripping. It was getting increasingly difficult to prevent the special blend from spilling over. But she had to keep adding the nectar; it just wouldn’t stop generating. If only she could find a worthy taster.