I dearly love spending the entire day with my mom at her house for Thanksgiving. The cooking, the Macy’s parade, the wandering around in my pajamas until right before it’s time to eat when I shower and put real clothes on, the laziness of the day and the warmth of the conversation that follows. I love it all. Missing so many of the big holidays over the past several years of traveling-Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays-makes it so much more poignant when I am, in fact, present. And now, newly married and facing a move to England in a few short weeks, I know that I won’t always make it home for this day, and when I do go, it just won’t have the same attributes that it always has. Even when things aren’t all warm and fuzzy(and in my family, they definitely aren’t), I wouldn’t trade that for anything, really.
My sister does this thing where she pretends to be sad and cry, and her little one just laughs maniacally in her face. It’s hilarious.
Also, my mother has a mini trampoline, which has become very popular with our favorite little person.
We are all very obviously related.