Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the year
My three boys were asking,
“Will Santa stop here?”
I thought I ought tell them
Santa was not real
But for boys to act right
He’s a part of the deal
So instead I told them
what would go down
Santa would bring presents
Somewhere else in town
It’s off to your Mom’s house
On Santa’s big Day
But all days before that
Us Boys will still play
This plan seemed so perfect
Till boys were still boys
Crying and fighting and
Breaking their toys
So next came the elf
Santa’s bouncer, you see
They’ll be good in his sight
but not listen to me.
I suppose this is normal
All the stories I hear
Kids misbehaving
Young parents in tears
But for one month in twelve
all is suddenly good
No instructions are ignored
Nothing misunderstood
I suppose I am sad
as the big day comes
My three good little boys
will turn back into bums
I kid you of course,
‘cuz my boys aren’t that bad
Still, that doesn’t make
christmas any less sad.
Because I like the buildup
That leads to the prize
I like their big smiles
their twinkling eyes
I’m glad for the moment
when gifts are unleashed
I don’t much love watching
them turn back into beasts
I think I am lucky
their glow last for some time
Its at least a week
till someone will whine
Then begins the countdown
till Santa appears
till we sing and we’ll play and
we talk of reindeer
Till under the tree
are gifts for each boy
with bright paper wrapping
with promise of joy
Till elf makes a showing
till advents are ate
Till boys tell me,
“Daddy, we can’t stay up late”
Till questions of magic
till wanting to share
Till hopes that St. Nicholas
Will once more appear.
So until the next time
I leave you this poem
Merry Christmas, Dear Reader
May love warm your home.