Taking what’s hers as she’s always done, guilt for her crimes there was none.
She stole with precision and grace making no demands, the prize forever sought again in her hands.
A calling card left, rarely the same; a token of her presence, hatred of her name.
She couldn’t escape this part of her curse, must always give to get for better or worse.
Always moving and never still, he kept to the shadows – his silence, his will.
All he knows and has ever done, sneaking and hiding were always as one.
He took what was theirs and what they didn’t deserve, hid it all out of sight without the slightest of nerve.
Nobody could match his cunning and style, nobody could see the true depths of his guile.
A wry smile on his face after another deceit complete, and back to the shadows his will to repeat.
The master of them all knew no fear, for his magic was the strongest at this time of year.
Waiting and planning, the patience of a saint; laughing at the irony, this very image to taint.
Pious and noble they thought of he, yet who was the one that best knew the naughty?
His deceit was perfect and they’re yet to realize, that rewarding the good was but a disguise.
How happy and complacent most everyone felt, never understanding the snow soon would never melt.
With the holidays officially upon us and my oldest son with his first loose tooth, the above is my dark twist on these “spirits” we use to explain holidays and certain life events to our kids. I just can’t imagine what these stories must look like from their end. A mysterious woman sneaking into their rooms while they sleep to claim their bygone baby teeth, a rabbit (who I was never quite sure if it was the standing-on-two-legs one from the mall or an actual rabbit) that enters our house at night and hides the colored eggs we leave him, and the granddaddy of them all, Mr. Claus — the fat man who somehow squeezes himself down our chimneys, and yes is kind enough to leave us presents, but is also the man who hangs the naughty card over our heads for the months leading up. That not being good enough, now he sends one of his minions to sit on a shelf and report directly back to him each night. I don’t know about you, but if I was a kid, I would be freaked out to learn that my parents willingly let this parade of spirits traipse through the house while everyone’s asleep.
This Wednesday, 6pm PST / 9pm EST, let’s chat about this motley crew of characters — the old, the new, and everything in between. We typically start chatting informally about 30 minutes before the start time. Use the #DadsRT hashtag to follow along and participate.