A Letter to Gil (or, A Visit Before St. Nicholas)

To my nephew the giggler, known also as Gil,

I know you’re a wiggler, who can hardly sit still,

And hey, who can blame you? The season’s in town,

With the trees and bright lights, and (please?) snow on the ground,

 

Your momma is whispering to Santa with care,

In hopes that your Christmas list soon will be there

(Granted, you’re two, so the writing’s still tough,

But between Mom and Dad, they’ll note down all your stuff.)

 

I hope you’re excited. It’s a great time for kids!

You bubble like teapots, near popping your lids,

All your energy focused on one magic day …

‘Til that time when you’re older and start to say “Hey!”

 

You see, it’s quite odd just how nature contrives

To decide just quite when a new baby arrives,

Which is why, when you look at December, you’re seein’,

Christmas Day, twenty-five … and Gil’s birthday, fifteen.

 

Just 10 days from your day to the holiday glitz,

That magical moment when everyone sits,

Surrounded by coffee and worn to a frazzle,

From the driving and cooking and holiday hassle,

 

I know at your age that it hasn’t quite clicked,

But I’ve had a few friends who once felt they’d been tricked,

And believed (while they waited in line at the mall)

That a birthday so close was no birthday at all.

 

They’d wish for a time that could be just their own,

like October, July, or in March when it’s blowin’,

Or the first day of school, bringing cupcakes to share,

Or any time, really – except for right there!

 

But I’ll tell you a secret, if you listen close.

The kids in December? They’re luckier than most.

With smart parents (and yours are as smart as can be),

You’ll still get a day to say “This day’s for me!”

 

Those bright decorations? My birthday won’t get ’em.

There’s smiles on each face (just as long as we let ’em),

Folks want to be happy, they want to have joy,

And that’s where you stepped in, you smart little boy,

 

Your party starts early, then builds to a next,

By the time that it’s through, you’ll be truly perplexed,

As to why folks would groan to be born on this date,

The whole doggone time is yours! Isn’t it great?

 

So rest your mind easy and rest your mind still,

There’s enough room to cheer for both Christmas and Gil,

Neither Christmas nor you will be ever forgot,

Never doubt it. I love you.

Signed,

Your Uncle Scott.