More Tryptophan, Anyone?

Recap: Thanksgiving Day 2010

Gathered with the family again to give thanks and eat turkey (except for my son-in-law Lynn, who is a vegetarian), because we are, if nothing else, proud Americans.

No Butterball turkey this year, because Gina started a dairy-free diet last week in hopes of curing Baby Bret’s acid reflux, and Christian is allergic to butter along with everything else, and other people aren’t too sure but that they may be allergic to something too, so as I said, no butter in the turkey or the stuffing or on the green beans either. There was butter in the mashed potatoes, but Jessica stepped right up with her recipe for pureed cauliflower, which she swore tasted just like mashed potatoes, although let’s face it, they weren’t exactly flying out of the bowl.

Ten-year-old Maria was especially thankful that she has surpassed me in height. This is not a huge accomplishment for most ten-year-olds, but we made a big deal about it anyway.

Six-year-old Christian, once he was sure everyone was going to stay put and pay attention, moved us all with a stirring tale about the Indian Squanto, the Pilgrims and the first Thanksgiving.

Three-year-old Cosette wasn’t frightened by her older cousins this year. She has gone over and is one of Them now.

Four-month-old Baby Bret is a big, happy baby, fatter than the last time I saw him and he was plenty fat then. His cheeks are fat, his tummy is fat, and his little legs are fatter than you can imagine. It’s like lugging around a 16-pound, smiling turkey.

But the highlight of the day came when everyone settled in the living room to watch old home movies. Jessica, who was sitting next to five-year-old Grace, turned to her during the showing of one ancient tape and asked, “Does Auntie look different now?” “Yeah,” said Grace, “You didn’t have a moustache then.”

And that’s the kind of thing that makes the holidays special.


4 thoughts on “More Tryptophan, Anyone?

    1. Well, Jess, you may be right and I hope you are. You have no observable moustache that I can see. No reason to make an emergency run to Target for facial wax or anything. On the other hand, who knows what’s going on in Gracie’s little mind? Not me. So you may have to live with the retelling of this story for years, just as I have to hear about Thanksgiving 2009 when I lost a fingernail in the stuffing. Unfortunately, that story is true.


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