'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through our home
Sounds of whining & groaning
heard wherever we roamed.
The stockings were hung
all set right on up
but there was great concern
about no milk for Santa's cup.
I in my foot cast
and Stu in his shorts
were in no great moods
to assuage the cohorts.
_____________________________________Alright, I can't do anymore rhyming at this point. We just got home from a fantabulous party at the brilliant Shana's where my kids did have fun, despite the stories they told on the way home about somebody throwing a ball at someone's face and someone else saying mean things about other people. But it is rather late for them, plus NORAD has tracked Santa in the midwest - mere minutes away from our house in the Pacific Northwest! [Enter panic mode]
As we came in the door, Bad Mom & Dad remembered that the kids needed to help wrap parent presents, and kids remembered they needed to write notes to Santa & set out treats. [Insert more panic] Paige noted we were out of milk AND egg nog; Dad suggested beer to much eyebrow furrowing from the womenfolk; Mason pointed out that last year we put out a juice box and he didn't seem to mind.
Once we got snacks straightened out (reduced fat Nilla wafers and orange juice) and detailed messages completed (Paige has 2 stockings into which she would like her gifts evenly divided), we once again checked NORAD and the kids frantically got into pajamas and brushed teeth. Bad Mom & Dad lounged on the couch, marveling over their offspring's strange combination of intelligence AND nuttiness.
Now for the surreptitious filling of stockings and eating of snacks and disguising of handwriting on a note TO our children from a grateful Santa (who started this ridiculous tradition??). Then maybe a little metaphorical rockin' around the Christmas tree...
Merry Christmas to all, and to all
a *good* night.
