hark, the fighting children scream
As I begin my Christmas shopping today (procrastination is a disease, not a choice!), I am reminded of this little ditty I wrote last year, updated for timeliness and freshness.
Twas nine days before Christmas And all through my mind was the running thought that I'm way too kind The XBox is wrapped tucked under the tree but what have those children done for me? They've not cleaned their rooms not made their beds they've not done their laundry they've played games instead they never listen to a word that I say yet what will they get come Christmas Day? Expensive guitar things; (strings, pods and some picks) two hundred dollars worth of junk from Hot Topic Some zombies, some Lohan all DVD fun Some Taking Back Sunday and Sum 41 Pink and black Converse a new pair of Vans A Star Wars game I wanted and Franz Ferdinand All of these things I bought on my own no help from the fat guy I did it alone for my wonderful children I've bought all these presents they deserve such rewards (is my sarcasm evident?) and now they are fighting and whining and crying and making a mess and cursing and lying I want just one night in a nice, quiet house where no creatures are stirring not even the mouse I need one small moment to contemplate why I spent so much money and stayed up so late wrapping the presents topping them off with a bow whispering to myself ho fucking ho fourteen years now I've been doing this schtick and what to I get? aggravated and sick And for all of my ranting and bitching and screaming come Christmas morning my kids will be beaming Yes, Christmas is the time to say "I love you, I cherish you, here's a whole bunch of presents, now get lost and let mommy get some sleep." It's really not like that at all, but some nights it sure feels like it. It's all good, though. I'll have the last laugh. That XBox is for me.