Mumma’s up first, still rubbing her eyes, Three kids charging like they’ve won a prize. Wrapping’s flying, dog’s got a bow, Mumma’s stuck smiling through “Ho Ho NO!”
The turkey is still frozen, the sprouts won’t cook, One kid’s crying, one’s lost his book. She sips her tea - it’s cold again, Then laughs so hard she forgets the pain.
There’s glitter in gravy, socks in the stew, They’re dancing with tinsel stuck in their shoe. Mumma just nods, says, “This’ll do fine,” Slaps on a crown like it’s royal design.
By night she’s wrecked, hair wild and free, But wrapped in arms as close as can be. Three little faces all cuddled in tight, “That’s Christmas,” she whispers, “now turn off the light.”
