It’s late Christmas Eve, the tree is still lit;
I should be in bed, but here I still sit.
Regretting each choice I have made in my life;
For surely, I should be a billionaire’s wife.
Instead, there are three kids upstairs in their beds,
And beside me a dog with a cone on her head.
The floor all around me is littered with parts
of gifts, treats, and toys for my three little farts.
They all seemed like good things back there in the stores;
Little did I know this would be such a chore!
That bicycle there nearly cost me a thumb,
and the train set instructions left me feeling quite dumb.
Barbie’s Dream Home needs an engineer crew –
The roof’s looking wonky and the back wall’s askew.
The tape’s stuck to everything but the gift wrap;
I wish we had coffee and Bailey’s on tap!
Should have started a week ago (or maybe last year?!?);
I may not get finished, I might shed a tear.
But I know with the first golden rays of the dawn,
the grumbles will stop, and the anger be gone.
When they run down the stairs and peek at the tree,
And the air is filled with their screeches of glee.
I’ll be a kid again too and the long night will fade,
In my memory none of the stress will have stayed.
Until next year, when at the same place and time,
I will once again curse all these children of mine!
Charter of Writes 