to spare you some confusion in the years to come, I've resolved to compose a list for you of all the unwritten, yet understood grownup rules that govern family Thanksgiving. Now, if you don't choose to observe them, no one is going to take away your birthday. (By the way, when is that going to be? Mommy could use a clue.)
Much of life a game anyway, and it helps to know the perimeters within which we're playing. Adds spice. (Like cinnamon. Not mace.)
Rule #1:
If you're a hunter, it would behoove you to contribute some venison to the family table. Daddy just informed me when he went hunting today that since he hadn't picked off a choice buck yet and it was nearly Thanksgiving, his policy would be, "If it's brown, it's down!" Fortunately his patience paid off, and Mr. Whitetail stumbled unwittingly across his path this morning just in the nick of time to save Bambi's mom from a gravy-smothered fate.
Final score: Daddy: 8 points. Bullwinkle: 0.
Rule #2:
It's thoughtful to look nice for your relatives, so dress up just a little for the family gathering. They're some of the most important people in your life, and it's a loving thing to show them that they're worth the extra effort of a shoe shine or breaking out the iron. (Daddy's iron is the other love of his life, by the way. Her name is Sylvia.) You don't have to immobilize yourself in flouncy fluff so much that you can't play with the other kids. Just ask me to braid your hair and I'll let you borrow my mail order stretchy string pearls.
Rule#3:
Even if you can't cook, bring something to contribute to the meal. Frozen pies are always a festive option. Ice is helpful. Rolls are practical, too -- both as a side dish and as a projectile ammunition against slow-moving cousins.
Sister Schubert: Bringable, edible, throwable.
Rule #3:
If you must go shopping on Black Friday, you are allowed to do so only with your Aunt Angela. Believe it or not, behind her normally placid demeanor lies the heart of a retail panther. And maybe a little Madea. She views shopping as a contact sport. If no one's bleeding when she leaves, that blender she just got for ten bucks is but an empty victory.
Your Aunt Angela be packin'.
Rule #4:
At the Bennett gathering, it's perfectly acceptable to indulge in a nice, lingering nap after dinner. Just don't be surprised when you wake up with one of four pugs on your face. But don't reprimand them. After all, you're the one with turkey breath.
I can has a lick of your dinners.
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