(Any similarities between this and an older Christmas poem are purely intentional.)
Every creature was whining and mom was a grouch.
The stockings were flung 'cross the floor without care
In hopes that the laundry would just disappear.
The children were nestled in a heap of legos
And I winced when a piece crunched under my toes.
And I in my yoga pants and he in his socks
Had briefly sat down on the sofa to talk.
Then away to the kitchen I flew like a flash
When I heard the crying right after the crash.
The child, on the breast of the overturned chair,
Had reached for the cookies and had crumbs in his hair.
When what to my reproving eyes should appear
But the whole plate of cookies destroyed, as I feared.
And my little old temper so lively and quick
Revealed in a moment at my wrath button's click.
More rapid than than anger, nothing courses the same,
I erupted, and shouted, and called him by name:
"Henry!" My tone made his little eyes glisten
For punishment that he knew he'd been fixin'.
"To the top of the stairs! To the top of the hall!
Now get your self up there, Mister; I mean haul!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with their mother's wrath, wish they could hide,
So up to the bedroom he trudged, loathe to go,
With a heart full of dread, and mad mommy in tow.
And then in a tinkling, I heard behind me
Glass lights shattering under the tree.
I whipped round my head and went running back down
To capture another small crook with a bound.
He was covered in pine sprills, from head to his feet,
And little glass splinters surrounded his seat.
A fistful of decor he'd grabbed off the tree;
Small bells and and plastic snowmen were a treat.
His eyes, how they twinkled! His giggles, how merry!
He reached up in a branch for a plastic toy fairy.
His droll little mouth was stuffed full with a bow
And the drool on his chin was as wet as the snow.
The stump of the light he held tight in one fist
And the string of them wound his arm up in a twist.
He had a sticky face and a little round tummy
And as I shook the glass off, he thought it was funny.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly young elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
As I shook off his pants and swept up the mess
I soon had the feeling I was passing a test.
I spoke not a word, but continued the work
Knowing that this week I'd been acting a jerk.
I laid down the broom and took up my young sons
Remorseful to miss the sweet moments and fun.
I fell to my knees, to my boys gave a tickle,
And away my prayer flew that He'd make me less fickle,
Then I hugged them amidst broken cookies and lights,
Christmas is next week; I'll prepare for it right.
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