‘Twas the night before Christmas, at least that’s what I reckoned
Having put off all my gift wrapping ’till the very last second.
See, I don’t much like Christmas: it’s nothing but stress.
It burns a hole in my wallet and leaves a big papered mess.
And I care not a whit for the myth of S. Claus,
But the Queen B abruptly ended all my faux pas.
“You will enjoy Christmas,” was the Queen’s grave command.
“It’s the Ladybug’s first Christmas… well, the first she understands.
Let’s show her the magic of the Yuletide,
And if you won’t help me, you’re sleeping outside.”
So firm the directive, so clear its reception
That I scrambled to assist with the Santa deception.
We decorated our tree with lights red and white —
“Just like San-ta-tahs!” noted the ‘Bug in delight.
We sang “Twelve Days of Christmas” till she started to slumber
(Despite fascinating connections to Triangular numbers!).
With the sky finally black and the moon shining high,
We tracked Santa with the help of NORAD and Wi-Fi.
The B and the Bug marveled the speed of his flight.
(Man, the inertia alone would’ve killed Santa outright!)
And when finally Santa was spotted in the U. S. of A.,
The B told the Bug “Off to bed right away!
For Santa’s got toys for you to have and to keep,
But he’ll only deliver if he knows you’re asleep.
So let’s set out some cookies and milk to say thanks,
And also some carrots for his flying reindeer ranks!”
I asked if the cookies were to “Sweeten the deal,”
“No! When Santa eats ’em she’ll know that he’s real.
Now little Ladybug, let’s put you to bed!”
What a cruel little joke after filling her head
With stories of Santa and presents and more
To toss her to her crib and expect her to snore!
And so the Bug screamed and cried from her room.
Christmas cheer dissipated, replaced by the gloom
Of oodles of boxes the B gave me to wrap.
“We got her all this?” I asked. “Holy crap!”
So we hunkered down for night and wrapped up stuff,
Decorating each gift with bows and such fluff.
And sometime that night we also assembled
A bright red wagon — it least, that’s what it resembled
After a rebuild or two due to shabby instructions
And a weary case of “who-gives-a-fu…” … um.. care?
We then took all the presents and placed them under the tree,
The Queen B with an eye to rearrange aesthetically
Until finally she announced the decorating was done…
…Just as light filled the room from the fast-rising sun.
“Oh God,” muttered I, “Could this get any worse?
I wasted all night on the Santa Claus curse.
We did all the work, bought the gifts, played the part.
Now we give all the credit to a phony fat fart?”
The B shot me stare that shut me up dumb.
“Just eat up those cookies, and leave her some crumbs.
The Bug will be up a few minutes time,
And trust when I say that all will be fine.”
I grumbled and groused, feeling cranky and fried,
Christmas an even bigger pain in the backside.
The Ladybug soon awoke, all sleepy and cute
And excited to see what Santa brought her as loot.
She burst forth from her room, to the table she went.
“Santa eat cookies?” We nodded assent.
Then she ran to the tree and surveyed her bounty:
Toy after toy, extending to the next county.
“San-Ta-Tas?” asked the Bug in disbelief.
“Santa Claus,” assured mom. “Now open your treats.”
The little girl beamed, her smile ear to ear….
My grumpiness evaporated! I can’t wait for next year!
The Queen B, the Ladybug, and me.