Twas 3 weeks before Christmas, and all through my house
The clutter was piled by my kids and my spouse
The stockings lay unmatch in the basket with care
In hopes that the laundry fairy soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug on the couch
Watching their programs with all kinds of slouch
And I in some sweatpants and Tony in his cap
Were dozing at 7pm in a pre-bedtime nap.
When down in the basement, there arose such a clatter
That I struggled to stand upright to see what was the matter.
When what to my grateful eyes should appear
But a big glass of wine and for Tony a beer.
And a cranky young adult child who was grumpy and quick
I knew in a moment it was my son Nick.
He spoke not a word but handed us our brew
And then started hollering at the rest of our crew.
"Clean, Tara! Stop, Vinnie! Hey, Mom, they're not helping!
Dad, make them! They're lazy!" That's what he was yelping.
I spoke not a word but swallowed my wine
And three glasses later, I was feeling just fine.
But holiday décor should not pair with liquor.
Getting the tree up could have been that much quicker.
The kids, oh so helpful, were playing their cell phones
And the dog was attacking the branches like they're bones.
But we still exclaim as this poem takes its flight:
"Merry Christmas in 3 weeks but for now it's 'GOOD NIGHT'"