A holiday poem
’Twas 20 days before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except mom clicking the mouse.
She was shopping, you see; online is preferred.
To her, the word “store” is a four-letter word.
The stores are so crowded, the stock is so-so.
Parking alone is reason enough not to go.
So with the house now quiet, the kids all asleep,
Mom and her credit card dug themselves in real deep.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Christmas gifts danced in their heads.
George wanted a snowboard, Emmett: a drone,
Lucy: Spotify Premium, Henry: a phone.
Jane would give her firstborn for Taylor Swift tix;
Hyrum wanted Lego, the clickiest bricks.
Their wishlists had been hung on the refrigerator with care
But were now scattered near the computer while mom went on a tear.
But buying online has plenty of quirks;
On even the best days, not everything works.
The shipping’s delayed, the promo code has expired,
the bestseller’s sold out, and mom’s feeling tired.
“Not to worry!” she says, a glint in her eye.
“I’ll try again later; tonight, I might cry!”
So dad in his sweatpants and mom in her battery-heated socks
Had just settled down for some mindless Net-flox.
When out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the hallway they flew like a flash,
Turned on all the lights, maybe said something rash.
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a cadre of kids, their intentions quite clear.
“What the heck?” said their parents, “We thought you were asleep!”
“Yeah, but now we’re hungry, and our tummies won’t keep.”
The kids foraged the fridge, they pillaged the shelves,
They ate all the food like some naughty kid elves.
“Stop!” their mom cried. “Don’t you know what this means??
Now I’ll have to go to the store—I’ll have to get dressed and be seen!
You’ve drunk all the milk, the bread is no more,
Even the chocolate is gone!” Her voice rose to a roar.
“You think I like shopping?? The in and the out?
The loading, unloading, the food all about?
Don’t you give me that look—yes, it’s clear I like eating.
But the rigamarole of the grocery store is depleting!”
“Wow, mom, we’re sorry,” they said, backing away.
“We didn’t think you had so much to say
On the subject of groceries, and this late at night—
But since you’re going to the store anyway,
Can you grab us some Sprite?”
Mom spoke not a word, but went straight to her work.
She made a new shopping list, then turned with a jerk.
“Hey, why did you grab me?” George said in surprise.
“I was just about to get a slice of that big apple pie.”
Dad sprang into action, to his kids gave a whistle.
“Take it from me, guys: get yourself out of this pickle.
Walk away right now; to your beds you must go.
If you talk any longer, your mother might blow.”
And away the kids flew like scared birds all aflutter,
Wondering when their mom had become such a nutter.
With a roll of her eyes and a twitch in her neck,
Mom set out to right the now-kitchen-wreck.
And the kids heard her exclaim, ere they ran out of sight,
“I don’t want to see you till morning. Go to bed and goodnight!”