‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the flat (yes, I know I’m in a house but house doesn’t rhyme with “cat”)
Every creature was stirring, including the cat
None would get settled – “I DON’T WANT A BATH”
Mum gave up and poured some gin in the glass
The children were nestled in front of their screens
If you prise them away, it ends up in screams
Mum took a few moments to sup on her drink
To just take some time out to rest and to think.
When up from the depth’s of the second child’s room
Came a clatter and clang, a bang and a boom.
What could this be, this terrible din?
That is calling me away from my loverly gin.
Could Santa be early, could such a thing be?
Could he have the wrong time zone, a man such as he?
It turns out the ruckus was not dear Saint Nic.
But child 1 failing a level & having a strip (strop doesn’t rhyme with St Nic)
“Dear God, give me strength” sighs a weary mum
As she looks at her checklist, still to be done.
She sprang to her feet, to her kids gave a shout,
“Oi! It’s bath time you rascals, don’t mess me about”
You could hear her a’mutter as she went out of sight.
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night”