I Saw Mommy Punching Santa Claus

I Saw Mommy Punching Santa Claus
By, Tracie Johanson

T'was the night before Christmas
And all through my home,
My family was sleeping,
I was completely alone.

The stockings were hung
on the mantle (it's fake),
And on the table was placed
Some cookies and cake.

Gingerbread and chocolate,
Sugar and spice.
I was sure that Santa
Would find it quite nice.

My mouth started to water,
I looked at the treats twice.
Santa would understand
If I had just one bite.

Then what to my
Chocolate-smeared face did appear?
But Santa, an elf,
And a bunch of reindeer.

Santa walked up to me.
We stood toe to toe.
He said "Those are mine,
"Or didn't you know?"

I looked Santa square
In his twinkling eye.
And said
"You touch these treats.....you die."

You see,
With chocolate, nothing can compare.
Even with Santa,
I would not share.

Yes,
I've always had trouble with this.
To make matters worse,
Snacks go right to my hips.

But I wouldn't give up,
Those treats, they were mine!
So I told Santa Claus
He was way out of line.

He wrote my name on his list
The one that's naughty, not nice.
Then I balled up my fist and
Punched him not once, but twice.

The scuffle that night
Was ugly to see.
We knocked over the elf,
We destroyed the tree.

Yes,
Santa and I got into a fight.
It seemed to last
Almost all night.

We fought over those treats,
Those snacks and sweets.
I even stomped
On his black-booted feet.

Because when it comes
To sugary snacks,
I won't give up.
I just attack.

But Santa's tough,
Quicker than he looks.
(And besides that
He throws a mean left hook.)

Finally we sat,
Panting and bruised.
Santa said
"This just won't do."

He asked
"Tell me, tell me, why do you fight?
Are these treats so precious,
That you'll fight all night?"

"Oh Santa!" I cried,
As I massaged my black eye.
"I don't know why I love treats!
They go straight to my thighs!"

"I know that these snacks
Will just make me fat.
But I still want them."
And there we sat.

Santa looked at me closely,
He may have shed a tear.
And quietly asked me
"What do you want this year?"

"Oh Santa" I cried,
"I want to be thin!
Though I don't act that way.
Is that such a sin?"

"I eat more than I should."
I continued to say
"And what's even worse,
I have treats every day."

"And yes,
I know that those snacks are yours.
But cookies and cake
I truly adore."

"I don't want to eat them.
Really, that's true!
Because after I eat them,
I only feel blue."

Santa nodded
To show that he understood.
He smiled at me
As he quietly stood.

"My child" he said
"This gift you desire,
The one that you dream of,
That sets you on fire,"

"This gift I cannot
Stock on my shelf.
The only way to receive it
Is to give it to yourself."

The gift of good health,
Being fit, tone and trim.
Cannot be given,
Even by him.

"It must be earned,"
He said to me.
"With diet and exercise
Don't you see?"

"There is no shortcut.
No quick fix.
No elf magic.
No Santa tricks."

"Oh, Santa" I asked,
"Are you really sure?
All of that effort,
Must I endure?"

"My dear" he replied,
"To be truly fit,
You cannot just wait,
You must work for it!"

He continued "Cheer up!
I know you'll succeed!
For I've known you since you
Were as tall as my knee."

"You can do it!" he said,
In a voice that rang true.
"Because, my dear child,
I believe in you."

"Thanks, Santa!" I cried,
"For the gift of good health."
"Don't thank me" he replied,
"You give this to yourself."

Santa turned to leave,
Back to his work.
But at the last minute
He turned back with a jerk.

"Go ahead" he said,
"I'll leave those treats you adore."
"No thanks" I replied,
"I don't want them anymore."

And then up the chimney
His sack he did lift.
As he called back to me
"Good health.....What a gift!"

And I swear I heard
As he flew off in the night.....
"Merry Christmas to all,
And next year - no fight!"