Twas the night before Family Christmas
And all through the farmhouse,
The family was snoring, including the mouse.
The packages were wrapped and bagged up with care;
The things were all ready, even our footwear.
The children were sleeping all warm in their beds
After an hour of fighting and near trips to woodsheds.
And I in my jammies, and Bob in his sweats,
Had just started dreaming of uninterrupted sleep.
When what to my horrified ears should sound
But a coughing-hiccup that could only astound.
There in the crib sat the toddler so sad,
Covered in dinner chunks and smelling real bad.
No Family Christmas for us, we realized at once,
Lest spewing take over without any license.
We hope the baby keeps the bug to herself
And the quarantine holds lest we all start to barf.
Lysol and sanitizer, soap and laundry,
Will fill the day instead of family.
Here’s hoping we have a day free of puke
And that there is no viral rebuke!
