How the Brat Spoiled Christmas

An Illustration from The Memoirs of Dolly Morton

In a quaint little house decked with garlands and cheer,

Lived a Brat who’d been naughty since this time last year.

She wiggled and giggled with sneaky delight,

For Christmas was coming… tomorrow! Tonight!

Her Spanker had wrapped up her presents with care,

Tucked them snugly beneath the twinkling tree there.

He warned her each day with a stern, threatening plea:

“Don’t peek at your gifts until Christmas, hear me?”

But Brats will be Brats, and this one was prime—

An expert in mischief, a menace sublime.

She tiptoed and tittered with devious glee,

Then slithered right down by the lights of the tree.

“Oh please,” she scoffed, “just one little look!

A peek isn’t naughty… it’s research for the book!”

(A book she hadn’t written, nor planned to begin—

Yet excuses grow wildly when Brats commit sin.)

So she cracked open ribbons, slipped hands under tape,

Spoiling surprises without an escape.

She snooped and she snickered, her grin growing wide.

She saw every secret he’d wrapped up with pride.

But just as she squeaked at a gift wrapped in lace,

A shadow loomed large by the warm fireplace.

Her Spanker had caught her—oh mercy, oh no!

He’d surely ensure her bare bottom would glow.

He tapped his foot slowly. He folded his arms.

He summoned the power of all Christmas charms:

“The rule was quite simple, young lady,” he said.

“No peeking, no snooping, no chaos ahead.”

But chaos had happened. Oh yes, it was true.

She’d ruined his efforts, from ribbon to glue!

So over his knee went the Brat with a fright,

As the clock struck the chiming of Christmas midnight.

He spanked her for mischief. For sneaking. For lies!

Till tears sparkled bright in her wide bratty eyes.

And something unusual—strange, you’d agree?—

Occurred in that moment, as odd as could be:

Her bottom grew warm with a magical blaze…

Then suddenly grew three whole sizes that day!

She gasped and she wiggled; she kicked in surprise.

Her Spanker just chuckled, delight in his eyes.

“For bratting so boldly, you earned a display—

A festive red tush for this nice holiday!”

And wouldn’t you know, as the spanking was through,

She hugged him and murmured quite sweetly, “Thank you.”

For though she was trouble, as Brats often are,

Her heart glowed as bright as a Christmas Eve star.

And Christmas next morning was sweeter, no doubt,

For she sat by her gifts with a disciplined pout.

She kept every promise, each rule that he made…

(At least until midnight—Brats seldom behave.)

-T