Spending the holiday with just us means we take some liberties (nobody ever got out of their pajamas today) but key parts of the day are firm ritual: we eat breakfast on the couch watching the Macy's parade. We make a proper meal of turkey and cranberries (and chicken nuggets and peas-and-corn). We speak in turn at the beginning of our meal about that which feels each of us with thanksgiving.
You know I love to bring delight to the kids' eyes and so I had prepared a beverage surprise for them. I poured them each some seltzer (which they think of as fancy drinking). I had frozen some fresh cranberries and I plopped a few in each of their glasses. The cranberry-ice-cubes fizzed satisfactorily and looked pretty, too. Delight accomplished.
But as is sometimes the way, oh-sweet-G got enthused. We're dropping things in drinks! Fun! He proceeded to add his strawberries. Then he added some cubed turkey. And then he floated a chicken nugget on top, the garnish that never needed be.
It should be stipulated that despite the many disgusting things he does (is it because he's two or because he's male? Because the girls were just as wild, but not nearly so yucky), I am thankful for that wild, impetuous boy. And I am thankful for my husband and his strong gag reflex. He always does the dishes. He put that seltzer-sogged nugget out of its misery.
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