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Practice makes near perfect at bedtime

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by Carey Potash
Susanne is not at all pleased that I'm tempting fate with this fictional poem, but ... here it is anyway. Merry Christmas! Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, ...