Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
the Mommy was blogging with the click of the mouse.
The stockings were filled, busting the seams
the tree bore the fruits of holiday dreams.
The Daddy was futzing with a last minute gift
and poor Mommy's eyelids needed a lift.
Mommy in her jammies about to log off for the night,
when a noise upstairs caused her feet to take flight.
The stumble of footsteps above was the sound
and Mommy ran straight up the stairs in a bound.
The wee one who sleeps like his Mom -- or does not,
was standing there peering down at the lot.
Mommy raced up the stairs, body blocking the view
before the young boy could see one stocking shoe.
"Oh honey, c'mon we must be in bed,
or Santa won't find us," to the bedroom she led.
Together they fell into bed very quick,
Mommy breathing so heavily she thought she'd be sick.
Huffing and puffing she thought to herself,
"I should have left those cookies alone on the shelf."
"And the ice cream and candy, the burgers and fries.
It's just that it looks so good in my eyes."
The young little lad fell quickly to sleep,
while Mommy gained breath -- just enough for a peep.
"Dear Santa, one favor -- just one wish more
I'd like to lose some pounds, maybe one hundred and four."
while Mommy gained breath -- just enough for a peep.
"Dear Santa, one favor -- just one wish more
I'd like to lose some pounds, maybe one hundred and four."
And so in the morning when Mommy arises
she'll run to the mirror to see her transformed thighs-es.
And if the reflection shows a figure robust,
well dear old Santa, he won't be cussed.
Because Mommy knows that Santa may not grant a wish so airy.
So next year she'll ask the Hanukkah Fairy.
0 comments:
Post a Comment