Here we are observing our family tradition of "sleeping" under the Christmas tree.
The original poem, “Twas the night before Christmas” was written by Clement Clark Moore around 1822 with the name “A visit from St. Nicholas. It’s been almost 200 years. It may be time to ruin it with an updated version.
Here is the Johnson version:
Twas the Night Before Christmas
(with three kids 19 months and under)
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was sleeping. Not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung over the window in disarray, in hopes that our Amazon order would arrive without delay.
Our daughter had finally stopped fussing and was standing up in her bed, with visions of Elmo and Dora the Explorer burning tiny materialistic holes in her cute little head.
And with mama on the couch and the twins screaming in my lap, we sat there praying that they would go down for a 30-minute nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clamor that I got up gingerly to see what was the matter. Over to the window I walked with my boys, nearly tripping twice over my daughter’s toys.
When what to my bloodshot eyes should appear, than a broken down UPS truck being pulled by a shiny new John Deere.
With a tired old driver who looked worse for wear, sporting a long scraggly beard and almost no hair.
He was dressed all in brown from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all covered with muddy snow and dirt.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, threw down all the packages marked “fragile” and kind of acted like a jerk.
But then he looked and saw my boys, and on the ground the little girl toys.
He smiled just a little and his mouth opened wide, and I wasn’t sure, but I think he got a little misty-eyed.
He said, “my kids are all either at college or in the war. You may not get much rest now, but I sure miss the way it was before.”
You’d better enjoy the sleepless nights while you can, because before you know it, they’ll never happen again.”
The John Deere fired up, and the UPS truck took flight, as the falling snow slowly turned the world to white.
I held my boys tightly as he disappeared from sight, realizing that a Merry Christmas has nothing to do with sleeping through the night.