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The Night Before Christmas

Tracy Curtis hspace=2

Archives/December 2008 Archives/1224curtiscomm

It's the night before Christmas, and all through the house, No creatures are stirring, except for my spouse. He's pacing the floor, and watching for deer, In hopes that St. Nicholas, soon will be here. The children are nestled, all snug in their beds, While visions of electronics, dance in their heads. It's a tense wait for Santa, he's got to come through, In light of the economy, we've had to make-do. It all started one evening, there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the dishwasher, to see what was the matter. Into the living room, I flew like a flash, Tripped over a fire truck, and fell with a crash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave the luster of mid-day, to my freshly bruised elbow. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, My spouse clutching my checkbook, should I get him a beer? With his eyes all aflame, his mood lively and quick, I knew in a moment, I was going to be sick. More rapid than eagles, his grievances they came, And he shook, and he shouted, and called them by name; "The clothes! And the toys! I hate to be brash, But the gifts! And the sweets! You're blowing our cash!" From the top of the bank statements, through nine trips to the mall, He dashed off each item. I defended them all. So I asked what it was, that he wanted me to do, With a house full of kids, and now Christmas here, too. And then, in a twinkling, he offered this nugget, "This family is now on a VERY strict BUDGET!" As I drew in my breath, my head spinning around, Into the room, our son came with a bound. Holding his Christmas list, stretched head to foot, Twenty-five items . . . oh this should be good. A bundle of toys, to have flung on his back, A Nintendo DS, leading the pack. His little eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, His nose like a cherry! While Dad's pinched little mouth was drawn up like a bow, The gray in his hair, suddenly starting to show. He blew smoke from his ears, his pen tight in his teeth, And the smoke, it encircled, his face like a wreath. He pulled his son close, up against his round belly, They both shook when he bellowed, like a bowlful of jelly. "We have got to cut back! Things we want, we must shelf!" And I laughed when I heard this, in spite of myself. But a wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know, I had plenty to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, He wrote out a budget; I felt like a jerk. And laying his finger, aside of his nose, And giving a nod, he explained as he rose; "We'll ask Santa for Nintendo. I must draw the line. We have to be sensible, In this uncertain time." So, it's the night before Christmas, and we're both such a wreck. Just praying that Santa, has gotten high tech. We hear hoofs on the roof, and bells, how they jingle, We look out the window, our skin all a tingle. He springs from his sleigh, and with a big heave-ho, Down from the chimney, comes the prized Nintendo. Then I hear him exclaim, as he drives out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all, despite economic plight!"