'Twas the night before Scope Day, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The feeding bag was hung from the IV pole with care,
In hopes that the surgery date soon would be there.
The little boy was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of Blue's Clues danced in his head.
And I with my pillow, and daddy with his CPAP,
Had just settled our brains for a few hours’ nap.
When in the boy's room there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to his room I flew with a jump,
Tore open the door and silenced that pump.
The moon on the crib, all cluttered with toys,
Gave the luster of mid-day to the face of my boy.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a kinked feeding line, somehow wrapped 'round an ear.
With a looping figure 8 tied in such a bow,
I knew in a moment, toddler hands made it so.
More tangled than a rat's nest, this feeding line was,
The pump sounded and alarmed, and continued to buzz!
It Beeped! It Buzzed! It Alarmed and it Sounded!
It Blared! It Bleated! My head, how it pounded!
Inside the room, and out in the hall!
Now Silence it! Silence it! Silence it all!"
I knew that I'd bought myself but a minute or so,
But I could act quickly - I'm really a pro!
So over to the crib, my nimble feet flew,
To shut down the pump, and disentangle him, too.
And then, with a rustling, I heard in the bed
The stirring of a child, as he picked up his head.
As I drew nearer the crib, and was turning around,
Up popped my Aidan, with barely a sound.
He was dressed all in fleece, from his head to his toes,
And formula had soaked his jammies and bedclothes.
A bundle of toys surrounded the chap,
And he seemed to be ensnared in a feeding tube trap.
His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples-how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the rivers of formula were as white as new snow.
Scraps of medical tape he held tight in his hand,
As the puddle around him continued to expand.
A sweet little face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly!
He was happy and plump, (the tube was doing the trick),
And I smirked when I saw him - this boy's clearly not sick!
A wink of his eye and a twist of a smile,
I should have known then, we'd be up for a while.
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
Unwinding the tubing, and mopping the murk.
Laying him down in a clean and dry bed,
Backing out the door as he rests his small head.
Then he sprang to his feet, blankets and pillows askew,
As out of that room this tired mama flew!
But I heard him proclaim, as I ran out of sight,
"More Elmo Brush Mommy! No more night night!"