Do you know the only photo that’s harder to catch than one of Sasquatch? Or even big-eyed aliens who read your minds?
It’s the ever elusive snapshot of five kids who are all looking at the camera at the same time and smiling like angels.
Mam made the very traditional Thanksgiving dinner of homemade enchiladas and tacos, which is really how the Pilgrims envisioned things. It was a muy beuno meal. Thing 2 even discovered that SLICED olives make him gag and even barf, but if it’s a whole olive, shoved onto a finger, he could eat them until the farmer brings his cows in for the night. Thing 2 claims that the “sliced” issue is what kills him dead.
I don’t know where boys get their strange eating habits from. Thing 2 also likes to dip his VERY MUCH SLICED apples into ketchup.
Go ahead and judge him for that.
After dinner last night, I made all the cousins pile onto Mam and Pa’s sofa for a picture. I took about thirty different shots, and there is NOT A SINGLE ONE where SOMEONE isn’t making a face at my camera.
The only one who sat sweetly through all thirty snapshots was Little H, in her pink jammies, on the end. When she scooted clear over there by herself, I’m pretty sure I heard her mumble, “I don’t even know these punks on the sofa! I’m not related!”
Little H is my honey, and very possibly my favorite after THAT photo ordeal last night.
Then today, I spent a chunk of the morning talking on the phone to my darling friend, Peggy. She and I can burn the phone lines PLUM DOWN with lengthy conversations that jump from topic to topic like a frog on a hot, electric fence. Peggy is my honey, too.
While I was on the phone with her, THIS happened:
Our family hopes that y’all have a very blessed Thanksgiving tomorrow. May your family be near… your table be full… your house be warm.. and your heart filled with Jesus and thankfulness.
And just know that my mama has already made homemade, frozen lemonade fluff for our Thanksgiving dessert, which is sitting in her freezer, as we speak. If that doesn’t shout out, “PERFECT THANKSGIVING,” I don’t know what does.