Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
We thought our teenager was snug in his bed,
Or listening to his music, ear phones stuck on his head.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But my teenage son and some friends he holds dear.
From experience I knew what was happening quick,
I knew in a moment stealing our car was his trick.
More rapid than than eagles I ran outside to our lane.
I cursed him, yelled and called my son a bad name!
“Now Son, what the hell! You have no permission
To drive our car with your friends or with this vixen!
For I could see that his new girlfriend was tall,
And very cute to my eyes, then my son cried, “run-a-way all!”
The car had been wrecked for my eyes did not lie
When I saw that the windshield was crushed and my son was all high!
So I rang 911, the emergency number I knew,
And soon there were police cars with blinking lights too.
And then, in a twinkling, I looked for the proof
Inside I saw beer bottles (and a bag of weed left on the roof.)
My son looked awful loaded and as he was turning around,
He saw that I was the one who had called the cops down.
His anger was plain from his head to his foot
as he gave me his most threatening look.
But I didn't care about any of his threats
because I knew that he had just bet his last bet.
His eyes – how red and blood shot they looked,
His cheeks were flushed and his red nose looked cooked!
His droll little mouth stunk with alcohol
yet still, he looked over at me and he called…
“Hey Dad, please tell the cops to go away,
You know I’ll be good - tomorrow’s Christmas Day!”
But the stump of a weed pipe he held tight in his teeth,
The cop noticed it and said, "I’ll take that please!"
“You’re under arrest- and your rights I will tell,
But you are on your way straight to Shuman, the teenager-Jail."
He spoke lots more words as he went about his work.
He cuffed my son and his friends and then he called them all jerks.
He confiscated the weed, the beer, and the blow-
Giving a nod, the cop said “It’s time to go.”
The police lights were flashing, the teenagers crying;
I knew my son was safer in jail than outside of jail dying.
My son put his head out the window and pleaded,
“Just one more chance, Dad, I know I can beat this
addiction and This time I won’t let you down.
Please, don’t let the cops take me downtown!
I sprang to my senses and searched for the words that were best,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all -NEVERTHELESS!”
(Happy Christmas to all PSST parents both near and far and thanks for your support all year long. Without you all there is no PSST ;-)
(Written by Clement C. Moore and Lloyd Woodward and reprinted from 2009 PSST BLOG)
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The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
We thought our teenager was snug in his bed,
Or listening to his music, ear phones stuck on his head.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But my teenage son and some friends he holds dear.
From experience I knew what was happening quick,
I knew in a moment stealing our car was his trick.
More rapid than than eagles I ran outside to our lane.
I cursed him, yelled and called my son a bad name!
“Now Son, what the hell! You have no permission
To drive our car with your friends or with this vixen!
For I could see that his new girlfriend was tall,
And very cute to my eyes, then my son cried, “run-a-way all!”
The car had been wrecked for my eyes did not lie
When I saw that the windshield was crushed and my son was all high!
So I rang 911, the emergency number I knew,
And soon there were police cars with blinking lights too.
And then, in a twinkling, I looked for the proof
Inside I saw beer bottles (and a bag of weed left on the roof.)
My son looked awful loaded and as he was turning around,
He saw that I was the one who had called the cops down.
His anger was plain from his head to his foot
as he gave me his most threatening look.
But I didn't care about any of his threats
because I knew that he had just bet his last bet.
His eyes – how red and blood shot they looked,
His cheeks were flushed and his red nose looked cooked!
His droll little mouth stunk with alcohol
yet still, he looked over at me and he called…
“Hey Dad, please tell the cops to go away,
You know I’ll be good - tomorrow’s Christmas Day!”
But the stump of a weed pipe he held tight in his teeth,
The cop noticed it and said, "I’ll take that please!"
“You’re under arrest- and your rights I will tell,
But you are on your way straight to Shuman, the teenager-Jail."
He spoke lots more words as he went about his work.
He cuffed my son and his friends and then he called them all jerks.
He confiscated the weed, the beer, and the blow-
Giving a nod, the cop said “It’s time to go.”
The police lights were flashing, the teenagers crying;
I knew my son was safer in jail than outside of jail dying.
My son put his head out the window and pleaded,
“Just one more chance, Dad, I know I can beat this
addiction and This time I won’t let you down.
Please, don’t let the cops take me downtown!
I sprang to my senses and searched for the words that were best,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all -NEVERTHELESS!”
(Happy Christmas to all PSST parents both near and far and thanks for your support all year long. Without you all there is no PSST ;-)
(Written by Clement C. Moore and Lloyd Woodward and reprinted from 2009 PSST BLOG)
Share
3 comments:
That was a very creative adaptation of Clement C Moores Christmas bedtime story. Hope everyone is having a very Merry Christmas.
Let this be a lesson to all of us--our kids must be held accountable for their behavior-no matter what time of year it is! My son spent his 17th birthday in rehab and has certainly proven that he doesn't want to be confined for any more!
Merry Christmas to all and have a safe and healthy New Year! Debby
This comment was left on an earlier post but I thought it would be seen better if I re-posted it here:
Steve W said...
My wife & I are in a Families Anonymous Group in the Chicago area. A friend of ours from the group has passed on a copy of your post with the Night before Christmas post. It definitely engages many of the emotions I feel in regards to my Addict Daughter. The Truth about Addiction article with it is a much needed reminder about the fact that addiction is a disease. When I first was informed about that fact, it went a long way to diffusing my anger. Thanks for your post, and I look forward to checking future posts.
December 20, 2011 8:53:00 PM EST
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