At this joyous time of year, many of you are sorting through your stash of previously received lame gifts, searching for likely candidates to regift. In that same spirit, I am regifting a classic Christmas story from blog years of yore.
Gather round, my kiddies, while I tell…
Little Red Hen’s Christmas Tale
Little Red Peg taking care of Christmas business.
Once upon a time, Little Red Hen lived in a cozy little coop with her happy little family. It was Christmas time and Little Red Hen thought some decorations would add to their holiday joy.
So she bought some egg nog and cookies, put on her favorite Bing Crosby Christmas CD and settled in for some holiday memory-making
“Who will help me set up the tree?” she asked.
“Not I”, said the rooster.
“Not I”, said the first chickee.
“Not I”, said the second chickee.
“Then I will do it myself,” said Little Red Hen. And so she did.
Amidst a considerable amount of swearing. Little Red Hen developed tree burns and little cuts on her wings from wrestling the 9-foot tall, artificial tree out the box, putting it all together and fluffing the scratchy branches.
“Who will help me put all the lights on the tree?” she asked.
“Not I”, said the rooster.
“Not I”, said the first chickee.
“Not I”, said the second chickee.
“Then I will do it myself”, said Little Red Hen. And so she did.
With nobody to hand the strings of lights to, she was up and down the ladder at least 26 times. All the lights worked when she tested them, but half of the strands went out as soon as they were all plugged together.
“Who will help me put all the ornaments on the tree?” she asked.
“Not I” said the rooster.
“Not I”, said the first chickee.
“Not I”, said the second chickee.
“If you think I’m doing any more decorating without any help from you selfish, lazy slobs” said Little Red Hen, “you’re crazy!” She burst into tears and took off for the mall with a squeal of tires.
The rooster and the 2 little chickees ate all the cookies, drank all the egg nog, turned off the Bing Crosby CD and watched Game of Thrones reruns on TV.
And the half-decorated tree and 3 big boxes full of ornaments are still sitting in the middle of the living room floor to this very day.
The End.
Peg-o-Leg's Ramblings 
Who is going to leave a comment outing the rooster and chickees? “Not I”, said the old friend. (Merry Christmas!)
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A very SMART old friend. 🙂
We haven’t missed a Christmas in Michigan in my entire life, and this year will be no exception. Our youngest flies in from California on Wednesday and we all pile in the car on Saturday.
Merry Christmas to you and yours!
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Haha, I know this feeling. Not with the tree, because that is actually the one thing my husband and sons do, but with every other part of the Christmas prep! But I’m almost done. Phew. Merry Christmas, Peg!
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Hang in there, Carrie. The end is in sight. And a very, very Merry to you!
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Looks like it was the rooster who laid an egg in this story. At the very least, he certainly did nothing to crow about.
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My daughter had the nerve to ask if I was every going back to the 9-footer after I finally switched to a 5-footer on a table a couple years ago. I directed her attention to this historical blog post.
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I think I might know who this Little Red Hen person is. Or is supposed to be. It’s better left unsaid. Christmastime isn’t about pointing fingers and assigning blame. Right? Cluck once for yes and twice for no.
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Like hell! How do you think Santa puts together his naughty and nice list?
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Oh, NOOOOOO! You’re miraculously making me happy that my chickies have all moved out and I can decorate my tree in peace…
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If you’re all that excited about it, want to head over to my place to help out?
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But of course!
I mentioned that there are always lemon martinis involved in decoration day, didn’t I?
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My sister-in-law had help decorating her tree from her short, young, grand-chickees this year. She said it was fun to watch them, but when they were done she had to move a lot of decorations from the bottom 3 feet of the tree…
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Hahaha! Perfect placement so the dog can knock them all off the tree.
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I was going to add to the chorus and point a finger or two in my husband’s direction. But he’s doing the dishes so I’ll skip it for now. 😏
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I don’t even know how to respond to such a thing. My husband said the presence of testosterone means he is unable to handle any fragile items like dishes or ornaments without breaking them. Now that I think about it, that logic doesn’t explain his inability to touch the vacuum. Hmmm……
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Well, I didn’t say he got them clean …
One of my mother’s few pieces of marital advice was never complain about how your husband does dishes or he won’t.
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Your mother is a wise woman. I suspect his unwillingness to help is due in large part to how critical I was whenever he did. 😦
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Always a gem, Pegoleg. Pretty humorous that one of your chicks asked about a big tree after all you went through. Bummer about the outside lights. Merry Merry!
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Thanks, Miss Guitar. Liz went out and bought her own big tree and decorated it for the first time this year. She’s growing up!
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That is one snazzy looking red hen — all fabulous with her pearls and red shoes.
Hope you and all your chickadees have a merry Christmas, Peg!
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She’s the June Cleaver of the barnyard.
Same to you and yours, Jackie!
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That was AWESOME!! I hope the Little Red Hen had a couple of stiff drinks at the mall. It always worked for me!
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Little Red Hen finally learned that valuable lesson. Now she usually heads out to a local watering hole instead of the mall.
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It’s funny how sometimes when you scale back that is when they notice what’s gone. We’ve moved into the KISS phase of Christmas decorating. Keep it simple (stupid). Of course that was out of necessity of moving into a space half the size of the last one. There’s no room for decorating.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Peg.
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Thanks so much. Hope your Christmas was fabulous, and 2018 is even better.
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Peg, I absolutely love this- it’s smart and funny. How can I get this sent to me. Fun fact when I first met the “Libster” all those years ago, she was Libby Dibby to me.
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Hi Craig! Thanks so much for reading and for the nice compliment. Sorry I didn’t see your comment languishing in the spam folder, there. 🙂
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