The Questions

I hope everyone had a very happy Thanksgiving!!

Of course, Elder and Younger were home for the week, so I found myself asking all kinds of interesting questions —

How did you fit all those clothes and your sheets into one small basket?

Why can’t you guys hook your two game systems into different televisions instead of arguing over one?

Are we really having this argument . . . in my bedroom . . . at midnight?

What if I hadn’t noticed the Cheetos that were mixed in with your clothes and washed them?

Why is my sofa turned backwards and shoved against the door?

How many pairs of socks do you think you have lost beneath your sink?

How is asking you for a bagel insulting?

Do you not see the laundry basket? Is that the problem?

How old are the two of you?

Why would you throw the cat onto the dog?

Did you know you can drink from the same glass more than once?

Twenty and seventeen? And you’re still arguing over video games?

How am I supposed to fit all these clothes and sheets back into one small basket?

Why is one week so short?

And now, alone in my silent house, I only have one question —

How long until Christmas?

 

 

 

 

 

Speak Science to Me

When Elder was home for Thanksgiving, I warned him, “Either you clean your room or I will.”

We all know which one he chose.

Of course.

I spent three days in his room.

I found 102 teeny tiny chess pieces, although I’m pretty sure he only had one teeny tiny chess set.

I collected a couple thousand teeny tiny Legos.

I found invitations from colleges that he had received over his last two years of high school. He had stuffed them into his bookcases.

Why?

I don’t even know.

I moved books from the floor into the newly cleared bookcases. I even had room for the book wedged between his mattress and footboard.

I found empty boxes for three phones, one Kindle, two Bibles, one computer, and a clock.

I even found instructions to a wood burning kit. I don’t remember him having a wood burning kit. I didn’t find a wood burning kit. Not too sure what happened there.

Last night, I looked at Younger and announced, “Your room is next.”

His eyes widening, he shook his head. “Homeostasis, Mom.” He patted the air with his palms. “Ho-me-o-sta-sis.”

Which I think is science for “Don’t touch my stuff.”

But he really should know…

I don’t speak science.

A Little Wisdom from Younger

Elder has been home from Mizzou since Saturday and has even spent most of that time at the house.

I haven’t had to work since Monday.

And Younger has been home from school since yesterday.

I surely am thankful.

So I wish you all a happy time of thanksgiving, and I offer you just a bit of wisdom from a four-year-old Younger…

Do you know why Batman dresses like a bat?

So he won’t look like Superman.

There you go. I know it kept you up at nights.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Angela’s Secrets

So, a few months ago, my husband revealed the recipe for my delicious, rave-worthy lemon poppy seed muffins. (Secret Family Recipe.)

Then, a few weeks ago, at a Thanksgiving family dinner…

“Mmmm,” my sister murmured around a bite of my pumpkin cheesecake pie. “How did you make the graham cracker crust? It’s really good.”

I just stared at her, my lips pressed into a thin straight line.

Eyes flashing with humor at my expense, she grinned. “Betty Crocker?”

Still cranky, I admitted, “Keebler.” Then I defended myself, “The recipe says ‘prepared graham cracker crust.’ I just followed the directions.”

I don’t know how Victoria has managed all these years, because obviously I can’t keep a secret.

Elephants

Happy Thanksgiving!!

As I am sprawled comfortably on my sofa, watching a football game, stuffed and sleepy from a tasty Thanksgiving dinner, I thought I would avoid the hard work of writing a new story and share an old one from the 2002 holiday season. Elder would have been six years old…

Last night, as we drove to the Christmas dinner for my mom’s family, Elder rattled happily about the Junior Monopoly game he had received at another Christmas dinner on Saturday night. “Next time I see my cousins, I’m gonna bring my game. I think they would like to play it. But we’ll have to be careful with the baby. We’ll have to make sure she doesn’t swallow any of the pieces,” he chattered as we neared the house of some dedicated Republicans who had installed a large replica of the party symbol in their yard. “That’s what you have to do when you have two- or one-year-olds. Right, Mommy? If she swallowed one, they might have to take her to the hospital. Hey. I JUST SAW AN ELEPHANT! I sure would hate for them to have to take the baby to the hospital. Wouldn’t you, Mommy?” He paused before continuing suspiciously, “Why are you laughin’, Mommy?”

I told him I was just laughing for no reason, which he accepted as it has been an excuse I have offered before to prevent insult and he is coming to believe Mommy balances precariously on the edge of insanity anyway. And I tried to stop laughing. I did. But it was like trying not to think about an elephant.

Sorry. Really couldn’t resist.

ELEPHANT, ELEPHANT, ELEPHANT.

Really, really sorry. Just try not to think about it.

The Wonder of Thanksgiving

The other night, it was just Elder and me at home, a rare occurrence. So, I let him talk me into Mexican, which wasn’t a hard sell. And then I let him talk me into watching an episode of Psych with him, which was.

But by the last fifteen minutes, he was leaning against my shoulder, eventually even snuggling a little further down against my side and tossing my arm around him. I held very still so as not to spook him into flight, my capricious sixteen-year-old. And so he remained tucked against me.

It was my own Thanksgiving miracle.

And I hope all of you experience your own wonder on this holiday.

Happy Thanksgiving!!