Despite the rain and traffic that turned our 3 hour drive to Portland into a 6 hour trek, and despite the malfunctioning hatch mechanism on the station wagon that turned our family ride into a two car caravan because we couldn't figure out how to maneuver a Great Dane into the back of the car without first dismembering him, we were able to make it to Grandma and Grandpa's for the big day of eating. Or as Little Dog called it, "The first day of Thanksgiving." When Big Dog corrected him and said there was only one Thanksgiving day, Little Dog reminded him that the day after you got to eat leftovers and pie at breakfast, we all were forced to agreed that it was like a second day of Thanksgiving celebration.
Grandma spent much of the day buzzing about the kitchen getting everything in order, making sure we all had snacks then reminding us not to eat too much because we still had dinner on the way. As always we ate and talked and ate and talked. The boys obsessed over the new games Grandma and Grandpa brought for the Wii, keeping them unusually occupied apart from the short bursts of discord when a game was completed and a winner and loser were declared. Meanwhile the dogs monopolized the couches and chairs in the living room.
After the much needed post-meal digestion break, the pie was served and when I looked over to see the boys at the table with a can of whipped cream pretty much covering anything that resembled pie on their plates, I had to ask.
"Is that my child with a can of whipped cream in his hand? And does grandma really think that's a good idea?"
Her answer was little more than a sheepish grin and much stifled laughter that shook her body as she tried to look genuinely chastened. She clearly failed.
And even with the bedtime resistance from the boys that comes just like clockwork after any exceptional day, we can more or less declare the day a perfect Thanksgiving. Or as perfect as things can be in real life.
For that, I am extremely thankful.
Pasta ala Fridge
4 years ago