Grandma’s writing Christmas cards,
Sister’s sewing ties,
Auntie’s stirring up some fudge
And baking mincemeat pies.
Mother’s shaped the gingerbread men,
They’re ready to decorate,
Brother’s weaving a holly wreath
To hang on our front yard gate.
The cranberry sauce is simmering,
Father is bringing the tree,
Packages are hidden under the beds,
And everyone’s hunting for me.
Grandpa has molded popcorn balls,
And he’s tasting the candy canes.
I’m under a pile of ribbon and tags
Gluing miles of bright paper chains.