I’ve alluded to Tgiving here and there but haven’t yet really written about it. Every year, my mom comes to our house where I cook a fairly traditional spread. This year, my mother has been on the other side of the country so that was obviously off the holiday table. My mom-in-law offered to order in this year and invited us since she knew we wouldn’t be doing our usual thing. I will admit that I was pretty depressed about the death of our tradition, but it was nice to not have to worry about cleaning and cooking.
The guest list was small, which was really ok by me. It was Will’s folks and brother, along with his 2 grandmothers and a cousin. The food was quite good. There was the obligatory bottle of Manischewitz1 on the counter, although no one opened it while we were there. There was lots of talk about kids and health issues. It was a typical family holiday meal, just a bit quieter than many.
As is the case after any get together over there, once the eating has concluded, the men retire off by themselves for male bonding, leaving the women to sit around and chit chat about woman stuff. The male bonding often takes place in the shop and may or may not involve shooting. I often don’t know if I should be amused or annoyed; it’s so eye-rollingly stereotypical. In any case, this year Will took Stella outside during male bonding so she could run. They could just as easily discuss cars and guns while chasing her.
After about 20 minutes or so, a door opened and Stella was shoved inside, the door quickly shutting behind her; we were back “in charge” of the kid. Fortunately after running off some steam, Stella was quite content to climb back up on her big chair at the table and join the rest of the women. At once she commenced with a floor show. She ran through a medley of songs including 3 back-to-back rounds of the ABC song2, Twinkle Twinkle, and culminated in Itsy Bitsy performed in a pair of oven mitts. After each song, the entire group was “asked” to applaud to her satisfaction.
Next year, I swear I’m finding a pint-sized sequined gown for her to wear since she enjoys entertaining so much. I figure we can put BY in a tiny tux and set him up as her piano accompaniment. Regardless, I was stricken by this whole experience. This is the kid that not 7-8 months ago was given a diagnosis of “possibly autistic.” I was and truly am thankful that the quacks were so wrong about that. Maybe next year I’ll start a new tradition and we’ll have duck for Tgiving.
1 I guess it’s a deep south thing. Every single Tgiving or Xmas, there will be a bottle of Manischewitz or Mogen David somewhere. I think the older generations just really liked this stuff and it became part of the holiday landscape, like fruitcake. For those of you fortunate enough to have avoided sampling these fine vintages, imagine a bad bottle of wine with about 2.5 pounds of sugar dissolved into it. I truly believe if you agitate it enough, the sugar will begin to crystallize out of solution. I guess it’s for those who really want that festive holiday diabetic coma to cap off their turkey dinner. Somehow and for some reason, when I’m not pregnant, I end up sipping some over ice.
2 God help us all if she ever learns 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.