It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

We bought our tree this weekend and I brought the boxes of ornaments in from the garage. The boys were eager to decorate the tree right away, but Kathy and I had dinner plans so we only had time to string the lights. When we returned around 10 o'clock the boys were asleep and the living room was beautifully decorated.

Valley Girl was sitting in front of the TV folding laundry. She told us the boys had done all the decorating completely on their own. What about the top ornaments? we wondered.

"They got the stool."

Who set up the manger?

"They did."

What about Dickens' village?

"They did that, too. Did you see the snowbank they made?"

You didn't have to help at all?

"No, they did it all by themselves."

The next day they brought in Frosty from the garage. "Mom says it's our job to set him up with you," they informed me. Frosty was a gift from grandma and Uncle Harold last year. We weren't too eager for an eight-foot inflatable snowman on our front lawn, but the boys were in a mood to decorate, so up he went.

They still have gingerbread houses to make and they want me to string lights outside the house which would be another first. It seems like they are determined not to let Dad play the role of grumpy ole Scrooge.

Kathy reminded me I have another responsibility due. It's time for the annual Christmas poem which has become a tradition in our Christmas card. I am not a poet. Hell, I'm not even a writer, but every year we somehow manage to collaborate on a Christmas poem expressing our gratitude for friends and family and celebrating the things we are thankful for.

Some of the poems have been admitted clunkers, but the intention is always heartfelt, and the picture of the boys is always adorable no matter how candid and unprofessional. My best poem, I always thought, was the one Kathy would never be willing to choose. It expresses what happens when software engineers by training make a feeble attempt at creativity:

      When programmers write poetry, the words don't always rhyme
      The tenses may change; it may not sound sublime.
      /* It may have lines that are commented out */
      OR IN ALL UPPERCASE WHEN TRYING TO SHOUT
      But the message is still heartfelt; the intention sincere
      Such as wishing you Joy at Christmas each year.

      And when programming poets take marketing wives
      Expect artistic conflict the rest of their lives.
      And if the pair should happen to breed
      Pity the poor offspring the lives they will lead.
      For with programming dads and marketing moms
      Its "impact" from her and from him its all ROM's.

      And if family talents together combine
      On a simple verse, a Christmas rhyme,
      You may get a message of Peace on Earth,
      It might sound convoluted, but for what it's worth
      When programmers write poetry, it may croak like a toad,
      But it's still less of a disaster than if poets wrote code.