Thanksgiving in Chez Mona was a success. The Thanksgiving-in-a-box deal yielded tons of food that was actually food! No military-type rations that needed water added! Real food! Imagine that!
Here’s a holiday confession: this is my only “fancy” serving dish.
Nathan loved his food so much he inhaled it.
And requested some mead to wash down the turkey leg.
Turkey doesn’t make Nathan sleepy. It makes him go on and on about about how he’ll join a fraternity called, “Tapa Kega Day.” Get it? Tap a keg a day? I didn’t.
But his dad did.
I like seeing my brother as a father. He’s a much different person than when he was still living at home and would do things like sneak into my room when I was asleep, fart in my face and try to convince me in the morning that I was just dreaming.
Mike refused to buy Nathan a doll stroller because “it’s for girls.” Even though doll strollers are the perfect height for Nathan, I compromised and bought a shopping cart with two Target stickers slapped on the side. Nathan loves it. He also loves the cardboard box, especially when he’s wearing plaid and camouflage. Great. We’re raising a homeless man. What’s that? Your son is going to be a doctor? My son is going to be a transient. All he needs is a sign that says, “Anything helps!”
And isn’t helping my son choose which freeway exit he’ll work as a panhandler what Thanksgiving’s all about? Or am I confusing Thanksgiving with Born on the Fourth of July?