‘Twas the Morning Before Presidents’ Day

‘Twas the morning before Presidents Day, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a baby.
The bags were all packed by Amanda and Ryan with care in hopes that breakfast would soon be there.

Baby Boy was nestled all snug in his bassinet while visions of creamy formula danced in his head. And mama in her pajamas and I in my sweatpants had just woken our brains for a long winter’s drive.

When out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I moved like a turtle. Tore open the curtains and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

The moon on the breast of the brown, dormant grass gave absolutely no luster to the outdoor bins of trash below. When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a black SUV packed to the gills with Baby Boy’s gear.

When a tired old driver not very lively and certainly not very quick, I knew it must be Ryan.

As slow as a sloth his arms did move, and he whistled, and shouted, and he called them by name:

“Now Dan! Now Judith! Now Baby Boy! On, Amanda! On, Alice to the front door! into your cars, now drive away, drive away, drive away all.

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