After Effects of a Festive Family Thanksgiving

Canadian Thanksgiving has come and gone and our American friends are about to celebrate their festive holiday.  I missed talking about Thanksgiving in October so I thought it appropriate to share my family’s holiday frivolity with you now.

A few days before Thanksgiving I get a phone call from my Dad.
“Bring a pie on Sunday.”
“Ok.  Pumpkin?  Any other fruit pie?”
“Yes, because no one likes your sister’s pie.”
“Really?” I say with genuine surprise.  “But we have it every year.”
“I know.”
Click.
Let the festivities begin.

The next day, Dad calls again.
“Don’t bring the pie.”
“Is Teresa making her pie?”
“Your mother says we’re eating your sister’s pie.  She can’t eat it all herself.”
“But why would she be eating…”
“Earl!” my mother hisses in the background.  “She’s bringing the pie because it would be too much for her to make it just for her and Mackenzie.”
“I’ll bring a banana cake.”
“Ok.  Haven’t had that in awhile.  Bring your squares.”
“Well I can…”
“I’m making the squares, Earl,” my mother corrects him.
“Just bring the cake.”
Click.
End of round two.

You guessed it.  This time it’s a voicemail message.
“Your mother says to bring a pumpkin pie.  Don’t bring the cake.”
Click.
When in doubt, don’t call back.

The big holiday is here and we arrive at the door.
“I got your message, Dad.  Here’s the pie.”
“Where’s the fruit pie?”
“What fruit pie?  You told me to bring a pumpkin pie.”
“But you said you were bringing a fruit pie too.”
“No, I said a cake.”
“That pie won’t be enough to feed everyone.”
“Well didn’t Teresa bring her pie?”  I’m starting to panic.  “I thought we were having that too?”
“Of course we are, dear.  It’ll be fine.”  I catch a glimpse of a floral apron flitting past my father and I.
I know I am in the twilight zone.

Dinner is delicious.  I’m dreading dessert.
“Who wants pumpkin pie?” my mother asks in a cheery voice.
“I want a piece of real pumpkin pie.”
“Now Earl, both pies are lovely.”
“What do mean, Dad, real pie?”  My sister is frantically smoothing the crisp linen napkin in her lap.
“Pie without that stuff in it.”
“What stuff?” 
“I’ll have a piece of Teresa’s pie, Mom.”  I cast a weak smile in my sister’s direction.
“I’ll have one of your squares.”
“A square!”  I’m starting to sweat.  “What squares, Dad?” 
“Your mother said you were bringing your squares.  So she didn’t make any.”
“Yea, Auntie Kathryn.  I want a square.”  Can you be charged for poking your nephew with a fork?
“That’s alright, dear, if you forgot the squares.  Your Aunt Hannah brought chocolates.  Pass this big piece of pie to Uncle John, please.”
“I was told NOT to bring any dessert this year,” my Aunt huffs indignantly.  
“So there’s no squares?”  My Dad looks at me grief stricken.
“Kathryn,” my sister whispers, “what’s he mean about my pie?”
Please God, give me strength!

And so ends another festive Thanksgiving dinner at the family homestead.  And only 31 days till Christmas. 

See you next year!

Do you have a festive family story to share?  Leave your comments.