A Sporty Thanksgiving

Eddie has always wanted to be able to stay home and watch football on Thanksgiving. It's a simply wish, really. One day to eat with family and watch football with family. He asked that we have everyone over to our place for the day. I passed the idea along to my parents and brother who were all on board. He asked his mom, telling her that he would pick her up the night before and she could stay over for a night or two. She was on board.

So we hosted Thanksgiving. Now for Eddie's idea of hosting. He's been working on his hosting skills since January's Super Bowl bash when he invited all his friends and my friends over and there were eighteen people here, some sitting on the floor, some wrestling in our bedroom, and everyone eating only when I put the food out while he watched the game. His skills became much improved by September when he threw my birthday party in the backyard. He took care of inviting people, ordering food, and greeting guests. Poor D, however, sat without anything to drink for about half an hour before I kindly reminded him that she'd asked for a drink (mainly, I yelled across the yard: D is dying of thirst!!!).

S thinks Eddie would make a good maitre d. He likes inviting people and greeting people. I think Eddie's ideal hosting situation is to be like, Hi! Welcome to my party! Now go see my wife if you want anything!

I put out crackers, cheese, pumpkin butter, and carrots for noshes. My brother was down with the pumpkin butter. He likes jam so I really had put it out for him to try, knowing he'd probably like it. It's got a spicy sweetness to it that is very delicious. Oh, and Eddie put out olives. Black olives. He doesn't like basic foods like peas but he'll eat a barrel of black olives in one sitting.

He helped make the rice and the mac and cheese. He also poured drinks. His hosting skills are ever evolving.

I made yams and string beans. By "made," I mean, opened the can and heated the food in the microwave. I put them in pretty bowls. My mom took care of the meat, ordering turkey breasts from Omaha steaks and getting a free ham to boot. My brother brought apple cider. After tasting it, he said, This is just juice.

I heated up gravy in a fancy gravy boat that I also use for sauce when we have pasta. In reality, it's supposed to be used for milk as part of my tea set, but it serves many, many purposes involving various liquids.

The big deal of the day was my spaghetti squash. I was excited to show Eddie the final product. He promised to try it, which I did not even ask him to do. Mr. Picky Eater Pants does not eat a wide variety of veggies, and so I was not going to tell him not to try it. I just thought he'd think it was cool the way it comes out of the rind looking like pasta, hence its name.

I was right. He kept saying, that looks so cool! How'd you do that? I told him, with a fork--it just comes out that way. The kitchen smelled like a pumpkin. They're in the same family. I asked him if he wanted to try to bake the seeds. He was like, throw them out right now. Heh heh.

We all ate. We all played with my mom's i-Pad. We all watched football. It was a good time.

Then we made tea and coffee and hot chocolate and ate pastries that Eddie's mom had brought and coconut custard pie that we'd bought specifically for my dad.

Then we watched more football. And then some more football. Everyone was actually watching. No one was nodding off in a food coma. No one was itching to change the channel. It was a football Thanksgiving afterall.