In which Lucien and I re-imagine the classic ’Twas the Night before Christmas story to include bears and purple tentacle monsters.

’Twas the Night Before Christmas

865 words about life — 18:00 · 23rd Dec 2013

1 days until Christmas. The countdown ends tonight.

On so we’re finally here, “Dan före dopparedan”, the night before Christmas. Back when I was younger I remember how we used to stay up really late on the night before Christmas. In hindsight I’m not really sure why, since there’s no presents to expect in the morning.

Yeah, unlike here, we would wake to the 24th of December, Christmas Eve to enjoy food and the dragged out wait for 5pm, which was when Santa would arrive with your presents.

And this is the tradition we have decided to continue with for our son.

But today, and tonight, is the night before and in honour of that we—my son and I—have prepared a poem for all of you.

Think of it as our Christmas gift to all of you.

’Twas The Night Before Christmas Santa

As revised by the imagination of a 5-year old and illustrated by his dad, which is me.

’Twas the night before Santa, when all through the chimney Not a creature was stirring, not even a bear; The policemen were hung by the chimney with care In hopes that a bear soon would be there;

A crude drawing on bear attacking two policemen hanging by a chimney.
I still chuckle at this one.

The carrots were nestled all snug in their posts, While visions of sheep danced in their voice; And girl in her kerchief, and I in my hat, Had just settled our stomachs for a long winter’s nap,

When out in the dark there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the spiders. Away to the woods I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the fox.

The moon on the spaceman of the new-fallen spaceship, Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, When, what to my wondering legs should appear, But a miniature lego man, and eight tiny pigs,

A crude drawing of a Lego minifigure riding a santa sledge drawn by tiny pigs and surrounded by little spiders.
Yeah, those are supposed to be tiny pigs and even tinier spiders.

With a little old man, so lively and Nanny McPhee, I knew in a moment it must be a stick. More rapid than parrots his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

“Now, Lucien! Now, Mom! Now, Dad and David! On, David’s Mom! On, David’s Dad! On, Danny and Amanda! To the top of the porch! To the top of the cats! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild wind fly, When they meet with a bird, mount to the sky; So up to the sky the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of catapults, and lanterns too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the monster The prancing and pawing of each little head. As I drew in my hands, and was turning around, Down the chimney Santa came with a bound.

He was dressed all in hedgehog, from his arms to his feet, And his eyes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of eyeballs he had flung on his back, And he looked like a bear just opening his eyes.

A crude drawing of a purple tentacle monster wearing a santa hat on each of its tentacle eyes.
A Santa of nightmares.

His eyes—how they twinkled! His feet how merry! His cheeks were like eyeballs, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the salt on his chin was as white as the bear;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his hand, And the ball it encircled his head like a hedehog; He had a broad face and a little round head, That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of custard.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old fishing net, And I ran when I saw him, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his fingers, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to do;

A crude drawing on a tiger wearing a santa hat running up the stairs.
Apparently I suck at drawing tigers.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his eyes, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a tiger, And laying his body aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the stairs he rose;

He sprang to his cave, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a bear. But I heard him roar, ere he drove out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all of them, and to Lucien a good-night.”

You’ve just read ’Twas the Night Before Christmas .

In which, 6 years ago, I wrote 865 words about life and I covered topics, such as: christmas, and father and son.