Twas the night before Thanksgiving (a used-to-be bar night),
And not a Got-Child was stirring (by 7:30 ... but that took a fight).
The kiddos were nestled all snug in their crib and big-boy bed,
While visions of turkey (well, pureed apples and mac and cheese) danced in their heads
And me with my laptop and Chad with his ipad on his lap,
We’ve both settled down for one (read: 5-7) beers (we deserve a night cap)
What? There is more to this poem?
Sorry, I have beer now.