We had four full days of Thanksgiving travel and festivities. We had a great time, and at the top of my “Thankful” list is all my relatives who bent over backwards to accommodate my rambunctious crew and their various eating and sleeping requirements. Despite everyone being amazing, the kids were out of their normal routines. And nothing makes a child grow horns and start breathing fire like messing with their bedtime and favorite breakfast cereal.
It was dark when we drove home from our final Thanksgiving gathering, and I tried REALLY REALLY REALLY hard to stay festive, ok? The kids were whining and complaining about the Christmas music I chose and they hated my idea to count Christmas lights, so after a VALIANT effort, I turned to face them in the back of the van and did some fire-breathing of my own. Then I turned back around in my seat, looked at Tom and said, “Merry Christmas, Baby.”
We got home to a messy house, and the kids all ate bananas and headed up to bed. Before they put on their pajamas, I hugged them one by one and said, “Happy Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for you.”
I pulled Thomas to me and we touched noses as I whispered, “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Thomas whispered back.
“I’m thankful for you, Thomas,” I said, looking into his eyes.
“I’m thankful for dragons!” he said, then ran past me and jumped in bed.
