The First Year of Christmas

In my last post, I mentioned that this was the twelfth Christmas my husband and I have spent together. Actually, we were friends the year before we started dating, so it's really kind of the thirteenth - but officially it's the twelfth. Drat! I'm digressing again. Anyway, in honor of the occasion, I've written (okay, re-written) a little ditty. Wanna hear it? Here it goes.

The first year of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a spice rack and a Charlie Brown tree.

The second year of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a no-gifts pact broken by a lovely sapphire ring.

The third year of Christmas, my true love gave to me, kudos for my new job with the state and a shopping spree for a dress wardrobe in my new non-smoking size.

The fourth year of Christmas, my true love gave to me, I have noooo ideeeea, but probably some jewelry.

The fifth year of Christmas, my true love gave to me, I still have not got a clue and am going with jewelry again.

The sixth year of Christmas, my true love gave to me, no Christmas tree because our new apartment at the beach was too small and an intact no-gifts pact (I think).

The seventh year of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a house with a view of the intracoastal by the beach.

The eighth year of Christmas, my true love gave to me, I've go-one blank again, but I know for sure I had a good time.

The ninth year of Christmas, my true love gave to me, some Tucks pads for my stitches, a couple hours sleep while he watched the newborn babe, and lots of TLC.

The tenth year of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a lecture about the number of toys I'd bought and some stunning diamond earrings anyway.

The eleventh year of Christmas, my true love gave to me, XM Radio, some more jewelry, and the memories of a lifetime with the children by the tree.

The twelfth year of Christmas, my true love gave to me, we'll just have to wait and see.

Honey, these have been the best twelve Christmases of my life. Every year is better than the last.