Jive Talking Turkey

"According to this, I'm a ham."- My husband clutching the meat thermometer around 11:30 p.m. Thanksgiving Eve in the kitchen of Casa Amos.

We successfully survived our first Thanksgiving hosting gig. After Adrian's longstanding Greensboro family gathering disintegrated over the last couple of years, we decided to pick up the banner and create our own tradition, mostly for our son. We invited several family members, but only my parents were apparently brave enough to endure both my cooking and my company. (My mother's only caveat: "Don't give us food poisoning.")

Little A was whisked away to his grammy and pappy's house for most of the day so Adrian and I could prepare the meal. Weirdly, we had a great time, cooking and cleaning. I even manged to sneak in a quick run around the neighborhood while the turkey cooked. The turkey, gravy, stuffing patties, rolls, and cranberry sauce all came to the table courtesy of the Amos Kitchen; my mom provided sweet potato casserole, creamed spinach, and a pie.

And we all walked away from the meal sans food borne illnesses.

According to my husband, my turkey was the best he'd ever had*, including -gasp!-P'Nut's fried turkey. Then again this man also thinks I have a great ass, so his taste is questionable.

Alastair, as any proper American male should, gorged himself on food and voiced a particular fondness for the "sweet po-tay-toe" and "cranbebby".

I'm sad for Adrian and Alastair that the big Greensboro Thanksgiving shindig that I was so fortunate to be a part of for six years has gone belly up. But I certainly look forward to a new, albeit smaller, gathering here in the RVA. And hopefully I can keep up with my own high turkey cooking standards. Maybe next year I'll make Not Yo Mama's Banana Pudding.

Other Little A related news, Mr. Vocabulary just keeps the hits coming. Highlights from the last few weeks of his expanding communication skills:

• When asked at the dinner table if he was full, Alastair replied sincerely, "I full of pee-pee."
• In response to the question of whether he had short or long hair, Alastair clarified with, "I have dirt tah-tah (translation: dirt tractor) hair."
• Little A has taken to scolding the kitties with a firm, "no ma'am" whenever they do something he finds inappropriate.
  
• The latest big, multisyllabic word: Flatbed tow truck. During a trip to The Costco, Adrian pointed one out, and Alastair repeated the word almost perfectly. We both busted out laughing, and Alastair, thinking he'd made a funny, continued to shout "flatbed tow truck!" for the remainder of the trip, giggling to himself every time.
• He was wandering around the den one evening smacking his lips together with a puzzled look on his face. Adrian asked him what was in his mouth, and without skipping a beat, Alastair replied solemnly, "Cat hair." And he was right. And he's never said those two words together, ever. Maybe that was a had-to-be-there moment.
  
• Tonight during bath time, he explained to me that he had two daddies, two mommies, two dirt tah-tah's, two homes, and two cowboys. Folks, I am as puzzled as you on this one.
• My favorite has to be his recap of a recent conversation with my dad:

Little A: I say I a little baby. Pappy say No!
Me: And what else did Pappy say?
Little A: Pappy say I a little boy.

My kid fucking cracks me up.

*(Psst, the secret is brining overnight. To a great turkey. Not a great ass. Wish I knew the secret to that.)