In the spirit of Pilgrims and Indians, I shut down my Word files the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and invited Niece and Nephews to spend the afternoon with me. We would prepare our Thanksgiving Turkey and take the puppy for her first walk ever. The Little People, as their older cousins call them, never refuse an invitation. (Aunt Cindy is still fun!) They wear superhero attire at all times because The Call could come at any moment. Niece wears a tutu and Nephews dress as Spiderman or X Man. Don’t be fooled by their height, they know an empty gas gauge when they see one and two of them can read traffic signs. At the grocery store, all of The Little People wanted to carry the celery. At the lake, all of The Little People wanted to walk the turkey–I mean puppy. (Aunt Cindy is still funny!) When I mentioned we might have time to read Thanksgiving stories, oldest Nephew said, “Oh yeah, baby, baby!” (Aunt Cindy still does cool stuff!)
It was all fun and games until the Teenagers came home. Three-year old Niece ditched her Thanksgiving book to run slo-mo (think: Elvira Madigan in a tutu) into the arms of her home-from-college cousin, while Nephews dropped their onions and celery to take up Nerf arms (superheroes, see?) against the invading teenagers, all of whom declared there was to be no noise and no making messes. (Aunt Cindy loves the irony!) Action-adventure notwithstanding, a Rockwell moment occurred when we took the perfect turkey out of the oven. So good-looking, it could have starred in a Hallmark Thanksgiving Special, and if the teenagers hadn’t seen it come out of my oven, they would have accused me of take-out.
Little People never take an intermission and the holiday was a three-day symphony, all movements conducted allegro con brio. With two grandmas, the turkey smell, and total chaos of Batman versus the Pilgrims, football and piddling puppy, and–I am not kidding–the adoption of three baby kittens (not me), we counted our blessings, and nobody got seriously traumatized or lost, except maybe some of the kittens. At one moment in the melee, my mother remarked that I seemed to be showing signs of readiness for grand-parenthood. Not the point, mom. In fact, you got that exactly backwards. (Aunt Cindy’s still got it!)
We’re finding Nerf bullets and getting sticky off everything in time to launch The Holidays: Part II.