This year’s rules are as follows – (taken from Ms. Hill’s blog)

“Write a children’s story (children here defined as approximately age 12 and under) beginning with any version of “Rocking around the Christmas tree at the Christmas party hop.”  You may use that actual opening, or you may change it to any similar version “[Verb of your choice]ing [any preposition you choose] the [any item you choose] [any preposition you choose] the [venue of your choice].”    Your story may be poetry or prose, silly or serious or sweet, religious or not, based on Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or whatever you celebrate, but is not to exceed 350 words . No illustration notes please.  Your entry should be posted on your blog between right now this very second and Friday December 11 at 11:59 PM EST.”
I’ve written a poem below consisting of 261 words, keeping in mind that children are obsessed with bodily functions…….

Rockin’ around the Christmas tree at the Christmas party hop,

Santa was dancing merrily and could not seem to stop.

Was it due to that glass of sherry under every single tree?

Or was it because all the drink had made him desperate for a pee?

Santa excused himself and set off at a jog,

Up the stairs like a mountain goat in order to find the bog.

Mrs Claus was in the bathroom having a nice long bath,

She’d locked the door and Santa didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.

He yelled out in distress as Mrs Claus began to sing,

She’d turned up the radio, and she couldn’t hear a thing.

Santa hopped from foot to foot, wondering what to do,

Then he realised he’d eaten a dodgy mince pie,

And now he needed a poo.

The pie churned around and around in his tummy,

When it met up with the sherry it made him feel a little bit funny.

He knew that if the door stayed closed he’d pebbledash the wall,

And there’d be sherry, pie and Christmas pud all along the hall.

Just at that moment Mrs Claus appeared and Santa made a dash,

Towards the open bathroom door and got there quick as a flash.

“I shouldn’t come in here for a while” he called out with a grin,

“Leave it half an hour, and then send the canary in.”

Mrs Claus wrinkled her nose and said without good cheer,

“No more mince pies and sherry for you; you’re on a diet. Happy New Year!”