'Twas the night before Christmas when all
through the house
I searched for the tools to
hand to my spouse.
Instructions were studied
and we were inspired,
in hopes we could
manage "Some Assembly Required."
The children were quiet (not asleep) in
their beds,
while Dad and I faced the evening
with dread:
a kitchen, two bikes, Barbie's
town house to boot!
And, thanks to Grandpa,
a train with a toot!
We opened the boxes, my heart skipped a
beat
- let no parts be missing or parts
incomplete!
"Too late for last-minute returns
or replacement;
if we can't get it right, it
goes in the basement!"
When what to my worrying eyes should
appear
but 50 sheets of directions, concise,
but not clear.
With each part numbered and
every slot named,
so if we failed, only we
could be blamed.
More rapid than eagles the parts then
fell out,
all over the carpet they were
scattered about.
"Now bolt it! Now twist it!
Attach it right there!
Slide on the seats,
and staple the stair!"
"Hammer the shelves, and nail to the
stand."
"Honey," said hubby, "you just glued
my hand."
And then in a twinkling, I knew
for a fact
that all the toy dealers had
indeed made a pact
To keep parents busy all Christmas Eve
night
with "assembly required" till
morning's first light.
We spoke not a word,
but kept bent at our work,
till our eyes,
they went bleary; our fingers all
hurt.
The coffee went cold and the night, it
wore thin
before we attached the last rod
and last pin.
Then laying the tools away in
the chest,
we fell into bed for a
well-deserved rest.
But I said to my husband just before I
passed out,
"This will be the best
Christmas, without any doubt.
Tomorrow we'll
cheer, let the holiday ring,
and not have to
run to the store for a thing!
We did it! We did it! The toys are all
set
for the perfect, most perfect,
Christmas, I bet!"
Then off to dreamland and
sweet repose
I gratefully went, though I
suppose
there's something to say for those
self-deluded...
I'd forgotten that BATTERIES
are never
included!
