we'll put it on in the barn

Knock Knock. Knock at the door.
Knock Knock. Is anyone there?
Knock Knock. Knock at the door.
We need a place to stay.

One snow day, a winter vomiting, and a half-attendance. Beautiful, blue, smile-eyed Mary has tonsilitis. We worry that it's a census too far: after two months of late pickups and one parental complete no-show, Mary won't come back to us even after the manger's restuffed with lambs and packed back in its attic space.

Three rooms left- all the other rooms are full
Three rooms left- sorry that is all.

Adults glazed, dazed with the stoned look of mild panic.

Two rooms left- all the other rooms are full
Two rooms left- sorry that is all!

Nightcap. Where's the nightcap? Who can run up a quick nightcap for the innkeeper?

One room left- all the other rooms are full
One room left- sorry that is all.

Looting kitchen cupboards for bacofoil, ravaging santa hats for pom poms.

No rooms left
There’s no room for you at all
No rooms left
We’re completely full

Fingers needle stubbled, the nightcap fits.