Twas the night before Christmas and all through our joint, the kids were still up but it was a mute point.
They were just too excited, with the coming of Santa, so we raced to the fridge for a refreshing grape Fanta.
As we got them in bed, with covers tucked in tight, I hoped they would sleep all through the night.
The kids now dozing and my eyelids falling, it was finally time for one of dad's true callings.
When all of a sudden a loud noise would arise, from the downstairs area to no surprise.
As I flew out of bed it was only fate, as I noticed no sleeping dog and a fallen down gate.
I raced down the stairs, creating quite a clatter, hoping the children would pay it no matter.
As I reached the wood floor, near the tree and the lights, the corner of my eye caught something of fright.
There with some paper hanging out of her snout, sat a blonde misses innocent looking to pout.
She saw me and sat, like nothing was wrong, and then she ran fast and in a moment was gone.
Before she left the scene of the crime, she grabbed the bone she had carefully untwined.
She ran to the bedroom, and laid in her bed, as I realized the anger had left my head.
It was after all, Christmas night in our house, so I began my duties as quiet as a mouse.
I had all the presents under the tree, when I suddenly realized what it all meant to me.
To watch the kids open all the presents with glee, their happiness and joy is what really gets me.
I love them so much and my wife just the same, I finally understand this holiday game.
It's giving that gives the feelings inside, as you watch the loved unwrapped in stride.
I'm glad to be alive to enjoy this stuff, and I hope you don't open your presents in the buff.
And to all a good night.
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