By Jeff Bacon
‘Twas the week before Christmas and all through the house,
Not a present was purchased, not even my spouse’s.
The stockings were still in the boxes upstairs,
In hopes when we looked for them they would be there.
The children were staring at the HD TV,
They all wished that Santa would bring them 3D.
And Mom in her PJs and me in my sweats,
Had just done the dishes and put out the pets.
When inside the house there arose such a clatter,
We jumped to our feet to see what was the matter.
“Just one week to go!” my wife shouted out loud,
“We’ve got to get ready, and I mean right now!”
Away to the garage she flew in a flash,
While grabbing her car keys and looking for cash.
The kids found the boxes with Christmas tree lights,
And hung all the ornaments – it took most the night.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,
Was just bright enough to hang bulbs in a row.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
My wife’s car returning, the gifts in the rear.
I thought for a minute, “That woman is quick,”
In less than an hour all the gifts she did pick.
“All hands on deck!” she called and we came,
She whistled and shouted and tasked them by name.
“You, Timmy, do Christmas cards…better get hot!
And Sandra, start wrapping the presents I bought.”
At the top of the stairs, in a box in the hall,
Were the Christmas CDs…she wanted them all.
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk.
“There’s a sale down at Walmart that’s over tonight,
I’ve got to get down there – it’s gonna be tight!”
She sprang in the car without once looking back,
Down the driveway she flew like a Nascar race track.
We heard her exclaim words I’ll always remember,
“Next Christmas we’re doing all this in November!”