I like this time of year better than almost any other season. I love October, but I think there’s something especially enchanting about mid-November. The weather is still nice, anticipation for the holidays is building, but the frantic pace of the season has not yet taken hold of everyone. If only we could camp out here for awhile. And, by “camp” I mean linger here, not actually sleep outside.
My mom has a collection of old books the girls like to go through when they’re at her place. A few years ago they came across one I remember from childhood, and it’s become one of their favorites at this time of year. It’s called Cranberry Thanksgiving by Wende and Harry Devlin. The copyright is 1971, but the story and illustrations are classic. The story centers around Grandmother’s famous cranberry bread and her fear that someone may steal her secret recipe.
The hand-painted, captivating illustrations are the best part. All of the characters are interesting, but the girls’ favorite one is Mr. Whiskers, the most distrusted guest at grandmother’s Thanksgiving meal.
The whole story line is heartwarming and perfect for talking about the spirit of Thanksgiving. I feared it might be out of print, but it turns out it has recently become available again {and is still receiving rave reviews!} on Amazon.
Speaking of Mr. Whiskers… the Spouse loves to observe No-Shave November. This is not one of my favorite things about the month, but since he lives with four females I think it’s only fair that he be allowed lots of freedom to express his manhood. And, what better way than with facial hair? The thing is, the Spouse can grow a beard in about a day. So, by the end of the month we may have our very own Mr. Whiskers residing with us.
In fact, at the rate we’re going, by the end of the month our whole family may be unrecognizable. I glanced outside the office window yesterday to see the Preschooler looking like this, as if it were totally normal:
Me: What are you doing?
Her: My homework.
Me: Why are you wearing a wig?
Her: Because I’m Elsa.
I guess I should have been able to deduce that much. The bright blonde hair actually made keeping up with her outside a bit easier.
Last night at bedtime “Elsa” was going over her letters and sounds again with the Spouse. He said it was going well until they started talking about Thanksgiving.
Her: I know the sound that starts with Daddy!
Him: OK. What is it?
Her: Fuh-fuh-fuh…F! Fanks-giving!!
I think that’s close enough. Happy Fursday, friends.
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