With apologies to Clement C. Moore

Twas a week after Christmas, all the work of the elves
Had been sorted and boxed up and put up on shelves.
The children were cranky from a sudden cold snap
Trapped indoors and restless, unable to nap
When what to my wandering eyes did appear
But an unopened box of Play-Doh and gear.
I sang out "Come here kids!" with glorious tones
Til I opened the package and let out three moans.
Too late! The kids pranced in the kitchen with me,
"What is it? Can I play? Hey, I want to see!"
I showed them the box, the most wonderful prize
Of Play-Doh and accessories tied down with twist ties.
I turned and I twisted. I twisted and turned.
My fingers did bleed and my tongue all but burned
From curses held back for the sake of young ears
While I worked midst the whining, the yelling, the tears.
I unwrapped thirty twist ties that cold New Year's noon,
A feat that I hope comes once a blue moon.
If pressed, I'll admit that the hour of quiet play
Was worth all the work on a frigid winter's day.