'Twas the day before Christmas, and all through the house
The stomach flu lingered! And Mommy did grouse,
"The stockings aren't finished, the cookie tin's bare,
And presents still need to be wrapped and placed there!"
The baby lay nestled midst Christmassy threads
While the sewing machine hummed over bright greens and reds.
With box cutter dexterous, with paintbrush and glue,
Dad made the last gift, and he wrapped it up, too!
All the cookies were baked and the presents wrapped quickly:
All seemed well and good, 'til the baby turned sickly.
We worried and fussed, then at last called the nurse
Who enflamed all our fears by predicting the worst;
We sprang to the jeep, and the heater-vents whistled
As to the ER we flew, like a 4x4 missile.*
The waiting room empty, they called us back quick
And the baby would not act the slightest bit sick!
He squirmed on the table and chortled and cooed;
The doctor commended his holiday mood.
"A result of his antibiotics," he said,
"Is quite likely this bleeding; you have nothing to dread."
So with lab scrips in hand we returned to our home
To watch him, but not worry, unless more symptoms come.
O what a first Christmas for our Little Bear
We will surely remember his fun, and our scare.
Now quieted down, set to turn off the light
We wish to you all a peace-filled Christmas night!
*Dreadful, I know, I'm sorry, but it's late and nothing else rhymed.