My 39, Day 11.

I don’t know how many more Thanksgivings I’ve got left when the youngest sports a Spidey mask all day and sneaks extra Sister Schuberts when he thinks nobody’s looking. Or when the oldest slips her hand into mine, leads me to the sofa, and reads to me aloud a book she’s just written and illustrated (“The Thanksgiving Problem”, in case you were wondering – a riveting tale).

img_0853

But I love it.

We’ve gone from feeding them baby food and sticking them in bouncy seats to saddling up around the kitchen island together, basting the turkey and talking. About our favorite parade floats and why we’re dressing versus stuffing people and this weekend’s Iron Bowl.

For the second consecutive year, we’ve kicked off the day with an early morning Turkey Trot race. This morning we pulled up the rear, as we did last year, but crossing the finish line first (or even at a respectable time) wasn’t the point. It was to be together, to take in a bit of chilly morning sunshine and to rev ourselves up for a day of food prepping, place setting, game board playing, movie watching family time.

It’s a pretty chill tradition, and that’s just the way we like it.

I needn’t look far to see reminders of how rapidly these routines will change. It’s tugged on my heartstrings to see the exuberance of so many whose Thanksgivings were made simply by having all their kids under one roof.

In time, that will be my tradition too.

For now, I’m curling up for the latest installment of creative flair that has taken hold here:

“The Thanksgiving Problem: A Musical.”