Some of you will NOT understand this. It’s OK. We’re still friends. But three of my equally geeky friends joined with me to write a poem worthy of our homeschool co-op Christmas talent show.  I don’t think our recital won (that six-year-old singing Rocking Around the Christmas Tree totally nailed it), but we had a good time and succeeded in embarrassing our children to boot!

In the hopes that there might be a few kindred spirits who appreciate this, we present:


Twas the Night Before a BBC Christmas

T’was the night before Christmas and all through the house,

Not a child was scrolling, not even their mouse.

The school books were stacked on the shelves without care

In hopes the next school day would never be there.


The children were muzzled and flung in their beds

While visions of Minecraft danced in their heads.

With dad in his recliner and no one in my lap,

I was finally taking my long winter’s nap.


When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Stepped on a Lego and tripped over trash.


With the moon shining in on the toys strewn about,

I crawled to the window to take a look out.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a magic blue box and my BBC dears.


When a spry Scottish driver came out in a minute,

I knew right away it must be David Tennant.

More proper than tea time, his colleagues they came.

I whistled and shouted and called them by name!


Benedict Cumberbatch, Matt Smith, Hugh Grant, Colin Firth

Martin Freeman, Richard Armitage, Tom Hiddleston– WHAT MIRTH!

Come up on the porch! Come into the hall!

I have cookies and egg nog to share with you all.


Don’t slip on the diaper, don’t step on the cat.

Oops! Mind the puddle. I meant to mop that!

Please, pay no attention to the rancid laundry pile.

Let’s pretend it isn’t there, and just chat awhile.


Tell me about Baker Street, Pemberley and Gallifrey

London and Rivendale and other galaxies far away.

I hear the kids stirring, the husband still snoring

While visions of palace life I am adoring.


The conversations flowed lightly with laughter and glee

Until I heard a voice down the hall cry “Mom! I gotta pee.”

Here I sit with a Time Lord, a Sleuth, and a Duke

When echoing down the hall comes the cry “I’m gonna puke!”


I looked at my guests and sighed in despair,

Torn between my children and all this stunningly crafted hair.

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,

Cleaned up the vomit and came back to Colin Firth.


His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry.

His cheeks were like roses, his nose wasn’t hairy!

And Matt’s shirt was tied with a cool little bow.

Then number Eleven said, “Darling, it’s time that we go.”


They said, “Come away with us, there’s much we could show.”

I sighed sadly and said, “I can’t. Ninety school days to go.”

I look ‘round my house, moonlight fell on the walls.

The pictures of children, to my heart they do call.


No tea time at noon, no audience with the queen.

My mornings are in yoga pants and on good days, blue jeans.

My life is not filled with breathless adventure,

Instead I haul kids in my old Chevy Venture.


I looked at my husband, my own handsome elf.

I smiled when I saw him, in spite of myself.

The BBC dears called out, “We must depart.”

Please go on without me, this place has my heart!


They stepped into the Tardis and closed the blue door.

I thought “Alas! I will see you no more.”

But David exclaimed as they flew out of sight,

“You can watch us on Netflix every single night!”


-Regina Jennings, Carol Leeth, Heather Fowler, Amber Parrow, 2014



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