Toads-in-the-Hole

Twas a couple of weeks before Christmas, when all through the flat
Not a creature was stirring, except a small cat.
Her owners were hung up in their books,
In hopes that their luck would not them forsook.

The pre-child was nestled all snug in her womb,
While kick-boxing actions fortold bladder's doom.
And Mama in her maternity clothes, and I in my office mess,
Were working up our brains for a long winter’s recompense.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the computer to see what was the matter.
While Mama snoozed on through all the ruckus,
I threw open the door and yelled, “Argh! Bupkis!”

Our neighbors, moving furniture, all cross the floor,
Echoed - scratching and scraping - over the front door.
When, what to my wandering thoughts should consider,
But a review of recent events, some choice, some bitter.

Like a lab class that near made me sick,
That taught us to make skin stitches, by times quite a trick.
But for our fine sensibilities, the profs cared not a fig,
And so I pulled skin together on the foot of a pig!

Or our micro exam, a subject not small,
Which was handed to us with impudent gall.
For while micro is neat, it can be quite a bummer,
To pluck forth facts that you learned back last summer.

But these dark thoughts like windblown leaves fly,
Hurled ‘gainst a wall of joy are thrust up to the sky,
A wall built by our lives, so cheered by the new,
With bricks made of friends, and mortar of family… um, ew!

Just last weekend, our young friends were triumphant
In their play of Charlie Brown, the applause was near-constant.
Our friends Stephen and Jill tirelessly directed,
And a darn good play for one and all was erected.

Our love of theater seems instinctive, conditioned,
And so, undaunted by stress, for another play we auditioned.
It was a whim, a fancy, a last-minute thought,
And now we’re doing a show, in art’s web again caught.

That last stanza, you may feel, was not the most strong,
And indeed, maybe we’re all finding this contrivance a bit long.
But hang on, do your best, it won’t take all day,
Just grin and bear it, there’s a little more to say.

At last check, EthelRed seems quite well,
Cozily escaping her parents’ pell-mell.
Daily kick counts totaling about thirty an hour,
We wonder who is this lass with all the power?

What more is to say of our latest, Dear Friends,
But, I believe we have reached a satisfactory end.
Rest assured, our lives are chock full of joy and happiness,
So with a nod and a wink, we’ve leave you with this tenderness:

With hearty proclaiming,
and traditional belaboring,
We’ll wish you and yours,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"