T’was the Night

Noel’s Christmas – Tuesday, December 14th

“T’was the Night”

Noel lay in her crib, nursing from her baby bottle, 9pm having just passed – meaning: she had stayed up later than normal. She had been bathed, diapered, put into a nightie and placed in her crib. Then her Daddy said he would be right back, walking out of the nursery and into the main bedroom.

And there she waited for him, already covered up with her baby blanket, surrounded by her diapered stuffies and wondering what this surprise was that he said he would give her at bedtime. This was most certainly no way to get her to settle down at bedtime, giving her surprises like this. After all, she was a BabyGirl. And this meant she was wound up a bit too tight anyway.

Surprises like this would only exacerbate her condition.

But when he walked back into the nursery with a storybook in his hand, it began to make a lot more sense. Sitting on the side of the crib, he leaned back against the foot board and opened the story book, clearing his throat in a very silly manner before beginning to read:

“T’was the night before Christmas, and as far as Daddy could tell,
Not a soul was awake, not even Noel;
The stuffies were diapered by the BabyGirl with care,
You know, the cute one with the ribbons in her hair.”

Noel’s eyes grew big-n-wide. What was this? She crinkled with fidgety happiness, listening to him. When did he do this? When did he re-write this Christmas poem?

“The BabyGirl was sleeping all snug in her crib,
While volunteering at soup kitchens was the cut of her jib,
She wrinkled her brow and her face showed a beam,
Of the fantasy she saw in a long winter’s dream.”

Noel could hardly keep still. She was wiggling all over the place, having abandoned the baby bottle and gone back to the pacifier – in an effort to keep herself from interrupting him with squeals of laughter.

“When out of her mouth flew her pink pacifier,
Her lips going pouty as her diaper had been drier.
Into her nursery I flew like a flash,
Lowered the side railing, to head off her rash.
A change with fresh powder like new fallen snow,
And the return of her paci let the BabyGirl know;
That whenever she needed such attention to her rear,
Her Daddy of reality, not fantasy, would be near.”

Ohhhh, did she love this guy. She knew, right then and there, that she wanted to be his BabyGirl for the rest of her life. Any guy, especially the Daddy types, who could think up these words to say, rewriting this poem … was a keeper.

“With a pat to her bottom, so lively and quick,
She knew in a moment it must be her Nick.
Then eight of her stuffies did enter the game,
He placed them around her and roll called their names:
“Now, Teddy! Now, Monkey! Now Kitty and Doggy!
“On, Hippo! On, Rhino! On Snakey and Froggy!”

Noel was wiggling all over the place, so filled with baby feelings that she had no choice but to crinkle uncontrollably. Her Daddy was hitting a homerun with this, even making certain that those specific eight stuffies were indeed in the crib just then.

“Oh my – how she tinkled! Her diaper so saggy,
But she said: “It wasn’t me”, as if she was Shaggy;
Her pigtails, so high, held up with white bows,
Her chin had a divot, her dimples and her nose;
The nipple of her paci held tight in her teeth,
And she spun in tight circles, like the round of a wreath.
She had a small face, to her eyes she gave ‘liner’,
With those cute little wings at the corner, making finer.”

Oh, she tingled all over – wanting nothing more to climb up on top of him and kiss him all over. He had rewritten this poem and made it all about her.

How was that for ‘white-hot attention’ received?

“She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And decorated the tree; ‘precise’ was her quirk,
Laying a finger on the guard of her paci
And giving a nod, her hips going sassy.
She sprung to her nursery, to her stuffies gave a wink,
And they lined in a row, just as fast as a blink:
But I heard her exclaim, with a smile so bright –
Happy Christmas to all, in her crib for the night.”

When he was done, he set the story book down and re-tucked her back under the baby blanket she had wiggled her way out from underneath. As he did this, she took the pacifier out of her mouth, sat up, grabbed the back of his head and kissed him. She would make it a long kiss, before laying down and putting the pacifier back in her mouth.

“Nighty-night, BabyGirl,” he whispered, raising the side railing of her crib and exiting the room – turning the light off.

Noel lay there, overcome with affection as she nursed on her pacifier while staring straight up at the ceiling. Nick was very right in not giving her that surprise until bedtime. Without a doubt, it would usher her into wonderful dreams.

The nightlight in the wall outlet gave a small amount of illumination to the nursery. Closing her eyes, she snuggled up with her diapered stuffies – the words of that poem still running through her mind.

Then she opened her eyes and say straight up, looking down at the foot of the bed and seeing the story book still laying there. He had forgotten to take it with him! How perfect! Now she could read it again.

Picking up the book, she leaned back on the headboard and opened it …… to find that the version of T-was the Night before Christmas that he had read, the one about her, wasn’t written anywhere in that book.

And what this meant was: He had made up the alternate version off the top of his head!

Laying back down and hugging the story book, fidgeting with crinkly happiness once again, she could feel her heart pounding with further heightened affection for him. It seemed like every night with him was amazing, for reasons she could never see coming.

T’was the Night, indeed.

Continue on to Wednesday, December 15th