Thanksgiving in Review (And Variation #3: Allegrissimo)
Last evening after we'd eaten our rather nontraditional Thanksgiving dinner, consisting of an accidentally purchased Cajun turkey breast, several healthfully prepared vegetables, and chunks of pineapple with peppermint tea for dessert, the kids were a bit rambunctious. They'd been inside all day, mostly watching Donald Duck cartoons, while my beloved and I readied the house for the arrival of our guest, his aunt from Kalamazoo. When they don't get outside for even a few minutes on any given day, they're like compressed springs awaiting release.
Release came after they'd gobbled large heaps of pineapple, which has the same effect on a small child as, say, consuming a modest slice of birthday cake with buttercream frosting. Zing!
They were doing laps around the "track" while the adults savored their hot beverages. I glanced up from the table and noticed that both of them had diapers atop their heads, which they were keeping there with the palms of their hands so as not to have them blown off by their high speeds. What was their chant as they raced around the circle this time?
"COME BACK HERE WITH MY DIAPER!!!"
Things calmed down immensely (OK, I wasn't actually there, so I don't know whether it was immense or only slight) a short while later when our cherubs were escorted upstairs for bedtime proceedings, through which our dear aunt was being coached by my husband. (She'll be staying with the kids tonight while we make our big anniversary escape...to Appleton, a city about five miles north of here.)
I remained in the kitchen, happily and peacefully doing dishes. I was washing our china (off which we even let the kids eat on this special occasion). It was a wedding gift mostly from our mom and dad in New York, so as I washed it, I was remembering that Thanksgiving weekend six years ago when we were married. It was a pleasant, almost hypnotic reverie...until I reached into the sink and pulled out a yellow plastic Spongebob Squarepants sippy cup. I wiped it out with the sponge, rinsed it, and set it in the drying rack next to the beautiful French Limoges plates, snapped sharply back into the world of today.
That world is pretty enjoyable, really. After the Nesco roaster had been put back in the closet and the wine glasses were back on their shelf in the hutch, I went upstairs to tuck the kids in.
To our son, I said: You know what I'm thankful for? You and your sister.
Him to me (softly, half-asleep): And I'm thankful for you, mama. And I liked your feast.
Fancy dishes and formality have their place, but gratitude doesn't get any better than that.
Release came after they'd gobbled large heaps of pineapple, which has the same effect on a small child as, say, consuming a modest slice of birthday cake with buttercream frosting. Zing!
They were doing laps around the "track" while the adults savored their hot beverages. I glanced up from the table and noticed that both of them had diapers atop their heads, which they were keeping there with the palms of their hands so as not to have them blown off by their high speeds. What was their chant as they raced around the circle this time?
"COME BACK HERE WITH MY DIAPER!!!"
Things calmed down immensely (OK, I wasn't actually there, so I don't know whether it was immense or only slight) a short while later when our cherubs were escorted upstairs for bedtime proceedings, through which our dear aunt was being coached by my husband. (She'll be staying with the kids tonight while we make our big anniversary escape...to Appleton, a city about five miles north of here.)
I remained in the kitchen, happily and peacefully doing dishes. I was washing our china (off which we even let the kids eat on this special occasion). It was a wedding gift mostly from our mom and dad in New York, so as I washed it, I was remembering that Thanksgiving weekend six years ago when we were married. It was a pleasant, almost hypnotic reverie...until I reached into the sink and pulled out a yellow plastic Spongebob Squarepants sippy cup. I wiped it out with the sponge, rinsed it, and set it in the drying rack next to the beautiful French Limoges plates, snapped sharply back into the world of today.
That world is pretty enjoyable, really. After the Nesco roaster had been put back in the closet and the wine glasses were back on their shelf in the hutch, I went upstairs to tuck the kids in.
To our son, I said: You know what I'm thankful for? You and your sister.
Him to me (softly, half-asleep): And I'm thankful for you, mama. And I liked your feast.
Fancy dishes and formality have their place, but gratitude doesn't get any better than that.
posted by Lisa Strandberg at 8:58 AM
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