‘Tis the season

And I have no idea

Why we we spend so much time

Making pretty little cookies

All decorated with love and care

Only to watch them be quickly devoured

By hungry “elves” and “cookie monsters”

Who seem to gulp without tasting

Or without noticing how pretty the cookies are.

I guess it’s a tradition.

I have no idea

Why we spend so much time

Wrapping gifts in carefully selected paper

With just the right color and design

And topped with fancy matching bows

Only to be have the packages

Ripped apart and readily trashed

In a pitiful heap upon the floor

Without much ado about how they were wrapped. 

I guess it’s a tradition.

I have no idea

Why we wait till the last minute

To scurry around like deranged maniacs

Frantically searching for just the right gift

(…actually, frantically searching for ANYTHING)

For just the right person

Only to have the perfect gifts

Returned to the store

The next day by the recipients.

I guess it’s a tradition.

I have no idea

Why we fuss and fume and fret 

Cooking lots and lots of food,

Trying to fix everyone’s favorites,

Only to have it all noisily gobbled quickly

Without much fanfare at all

By suddenly overstuffed guests

Who then rush from the table to get the most

Comfortable chairs in the house

To take a nap or watch TV

I have no idea,

I really don’t know

Why we do all of this

But we do.

I guess it’s all because of tradition

And we love traditions.

After all……‘Tis the season.