'Twas the Night Before Christmas Menace Edition

’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the place,
Not a creature was stirring—except panic and disgrace.
The stockings were hung by the laundry with care,
In hopes that the dryer would soon spit out a pair.
The children were feral, not snug in their beds,
While visions of mayhem danced in their heads.
And Mama in band tee, with a glass full of gin,
Had just settled her nerves for fresh chaos to begin.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
She sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the window she flew like a flash,
Tripping on Legos—the true Yuletide gash.
The moon on the breast of the half-shoveled snow
Gave a luster to objects lost ages ago.
When, what to her wondering eyes should appear,
But Amazon packages she hid all last year.
With a sigh so weary and spirit so weak,
She ripped into wrapping, frantically bleak.
The children will wake in less than an hour,
She’s got batteries, wine, and a dubious power.
She laughed through the mess, she shrugged with delight—
“Merry Christmas to me, and to me a good night!”

Merry Christmas!