Dad’s Perspective: Happy Christmas to All!
By Jonathan White, Triplet Dad
Originally printed in December, 2005


T’was the day before Christmas, when all through the place 
Dad was not resting, he’d started his race. 
With bikes in their boxes, a doll house in a crate,
Toys to assemble, no time for his mate.

The tools were laid out, the batteries were bought, 
The kids were all resting, taking naps... not!
Instructions pulled out, seven languages they come, 
But to Dad’s dismay, English’s not one!

Pictures are what he will rely upon, 
Gosh, this part won’t fit, he’ll just force it on. 
Now sucking his thumb, the color of grape, 
A hammer is thrown, he opts for duct tape.

Away to Home Depot, as fast as a train,
To replace one stinking screw that fell down the drain.
When, what to his bloodshot eyes should appear, 
But a singleton dad swilling a beer.

With a spring to his step, so lively so quick, 
Buying tools for himself, oh, what a… pain.
Back at the house, Dad’s charges they came, 
and he hollered and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Daniel! 
Now Ally! 
Now, Babe and now, Aidan! 
Hey, Zachary!
Hey, Kiki! 
Hey, Bella and Jilli! 
Get out of the boxes!”  He loudly proclaims!
Oops, did it again.  Dad used the pet’s names!

Now up in the attic to wrap one last new thing, 
It figures, of course, the phone it would ring.
Head over heels, down stairs of two flights,
Dad wondered who’d call, this late at night.

Working late was the boss, no family had he,
He can’t find the report I gave him at three!
Thank God for email, and thank Him for faxes.
The PC’s just not for games and for taxes.

The bikes now assembled, the doll house set up,
No animals this year, no pony nor pup.
Toys, bikes, and doll house, all prettily were wrapped,
Dad needed to rest, his strength was now sapped.

Kids now asleep, and dear wife close at hand,
There finally appeared quiet calm through his land.
Dad’s butt now hovering one inch from his chair,
He remembered one last thing before he sat there.

It wasn’t a gift with parts all asunder,
It was a pet with shrill voice loud as thunder.
Not dog, not cat, nor fish caused this fray,
‘T’was the loudest of all, the African Grey.

Not blanket, not threat, not towel or shroud,
Could quiet this beast who was so frequently loud.
Not cursing or cussing, not spell and not hex,
The only thing feared by this thing was T-rex.

So off to the toy box this dad did he walk,
To gather the toy that silenced all talk.
Atop of the cage made of iron and steel,
A tiny T-rex, the birds beak it did seal.

Once again over his chair, Dad’s butt did hover, 
Not a remaining task did his mind searching uncover.
Babes sound asleep in their three beds in a row, 
Both dogs and both cats to their beds did they go.

Now, sleep will be soon, but for a moment they rest,
Dad’s wife and he knowing morn’ light brings them guests.
And advice they will give, as if Martha Stuart,
“Do this and not that,” oh, such danger they will court.

But Dad’s eve is now calm, since a worrier he’s not,
His soul’s been recharged from the blessings he’s got.
He utters from his chair as his eyes close to all sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"