Tis the day before Christmas and running about
Are two little boys with their bums hanging out
Of character undies, McQueen and Tow Mater,
Millennium Falcon, Yoda, and Vader.
I tell them, “We’re leaving! We’re going to church!
Get ready now or get left in the lurch!”
Still trousers are carelessly hung on the chair,
With Cars, tracks, and dinosaurs strewn everywhere
If St. Nick is coming, HE’D better watch out
This place is a minefield with hurdles throughout.
The children have wrestled and jumped in their beds
And now take to tackling with sheets on their heads
“I’ve told you and told you! No blankets on faces!!!”
They pause, but ignore, and are off to the races.
We pounce on each one and a struggle ensues--
But refuse to let up til they’re clothed, wearing shoes.
We practically chase them out into the car
Where they start their complaining at once, “Is it far?”
“Roll down my window”, “I’m bored”, and “I’m hot”
As we quietly summon what patience we’ve got.
Well, we try—but we fail—and arrive at church yelling,
With blood pressure raised and our forehead veins swelling.
Our kids are first stunned, by the calm, quiet service…
But as it continues, we’re right to be nervous.
The oldest attempts to make up for last year
When his meltdown almost got him yanked outta here.
But the youngest is stacking the song books like blocks
And sounds like he’s shouting whenever he talks.
This time, we survive--nervous smiles, gritted teeth--
And scurry out quick by the lit Advent wreath.
Not one hour past the last Noel refrain
They’re diving head first into plates of lo mein.
We enjoy wine and sushi and things of that ilk
While kids squirm in the booth, blowing bubbles in milk.
Back at home there’s no stirring from mice in the house—
But the kids are wide open and running their mouths.
Like we’re wrangling steer, we get kids in their beds
While visions of night caps break-dance in our heads.
But no “winter’s nap” is yet in the cards
For these two worthy parents who’ve toiled so hard
Instead, “Santa” waits til kids audibly snore
Then smuggles “his” wares down the stairs past their door.
There’s staging, assembly, and stickers, directions—
While Team Santa chugs beer and snarfs cookie confections.
We stuff all the stockings and stay up too late
Then wake to our young son dismantling his gate
“I open it, Mommy! I do it myself!”
(So much for safety with this little elf)
Then Harry Houdini wakes up older brother
And they scoot down the stairs, trying to push past each other.
Just kidding. Houdini is taking his time.
And dragging his ass like it’s towing a line.
He’s too young to know or he’d pick up the pace
And get down here to see toys all over the place.
When finally he does, he and brother tear in
To their pile of gifts and the treasures therein…
…They still found a way to pick fights over toys--
But it was--overall--a great day for these boys.
A White Christmas today had not one snowball’s chance,
So muggy and hot, the boys took off their pants--
Which brought us full circle—from “Eve” into “Day”
‘Cuz, if you ask them, who needs pants anyway?
So embrace all the magic--run wild, not a care.
Merry Christmas to all—and to all, underwear.
Are two little boys with their bums hanging out
Of character undies, McQueen and Tow Mater,
Millennium Falcon, Yoda, and Vader.
I tell them, “We’re leaving! We’re going to church!
Get ready now or get left in the lurch!”
Still trousers are carelessly hung on the chair,
With Cars, tracks, and dinosaurs strewn everywhere
If St. Nick is coming, HE’D better watch out
This place is a minefield with hurdles throughout.
The children have wrestled and jumped in their beds
And now take to tackling with sheets on their heads
“I’ve told you and told you! No blankets on faces!!!”
They pause, but ignore, and are off to the races.
We pounce on each one and a struggle ensues--
But refuse to let up til they’re clothed, wearing shoes.
We practically chase them out into the car
Where they start their complaining at once, “Is it far?”
“Roll down my window”, “I’m bored”, and “I’m hot”
As we quietly summon what patience we’ve got.
Well, we try—but we fail—and arrive at church yelling,
With blood pressure raised and our forehead veins swelling.
Our kids are first stunned, by the calm, quiet service…
But as it continues, we’re right to be nervous.
The oldest attempts to make up for last year
When his meltdown almost got him yanked outta here.
But the youngest is stacking the song books like blocks
And sounds like he’s shouting whenever he talks.
This time, we survive--nervous smiles, gritted teeth--
And scurry out quick by the lit Advent wreath.
Not one hour past the last Noel refrain
They’re diving head first into plates of lo mein.
We enjoy wine and sushi and things of that ilk
While kids squirm in the booth, blowing bubbles in milk.
Back at home there’s no stirring from mice in the house—
But the kids are wide open and running their mouths.
Like we’re wrangling steer, we get kids in their beds
While visions of night caps break-dance in our heads.
But no “winter’s nap” is yet in the cards
For these two worthy parents who’ve toiled so hard
Instead, “Santa” waits til kids audibly snore
Then smuggles “his” wares down the stairs past their door.
There’s staging, assembly, and stickers, directions—
While Team Santa chugs beer and snarfs cookie confections.
We stuff all the stockings and stay up too late
Then wake to our young son dismantling his gate
“I open it, Mommy! I do it myself!”
(So much for safety with this little elf)
Then Harry Houdini wakes up older brother
And they scoot down the stairs, trying to push past each other.
Just kidding. Houdini is taking his time.
And dragging his ass like it’s towing a line.
He’s too young to know or he’d pick up the pace
And get down here to see toys all over the place.
When finally he does, he and brother tear in
To their pile of gifts and the treasures therein…
…They still found a way to pick fights over toys--
But it was--overall--a great day for these boys.
A White Christmas today had not one snowball’s chance,
So muggy and hot, the boys took off their pants--
Which brought us full circle—from “Eve” into “Day”
‘Cuz, if you ask them, who needs pants anyway?
So embrace all the magic--run wild, not a care.
Merry Christmas to all—and to all, underwear.
*
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