Thanksgiving is next week and I couldn’t be more excited. I’m in love with the fact that there is a Holiday designed for Americans to just eat. That probably isn’t technically correct, but I see a free pass to be a glutton one day of the year and I am going to use it. This year, our family decided to just have separate Thanksgivings. I can’t really blame them since nobody enjoys a drive home with a food baby ready to bust buttons. However, this new every-household-for-themselves tradition has got me pretty nervous. This household, my household, has somewhat of an unfair advantage. My home contains one mom with two adult children who cannot cook.
Of course my mom is totally calm about the whole thing, and her confidence always reassures me. Somehow she knows that Thanksgiving dinner is going to be ready at 5 p.m. sharp, with sides beautifully prepared, and a turkey cooked to perfection. It will all be done thanks to that freaky mom force that makes Superman look inadequate. You know, the same force that could get you fed, groomed, and ready for school in 20 min. The same amount of time it now takes me to just get out of bed.