Stuffed

It was just us for Thanksgiving this year. And even though we love our families and wish we could have Young-Amys fiestas for every holiday, having it be just Chris, Taylor, Ruby and me was quite lovely. And a lot less dishes too.

We couldn’t have asked for nicer weather on Thursday, and spent a good amount of time outside in the sunshine, throwing the ball and watching Taylor and Ruby run hot laps around the cul-de-sac. And with the Green Bay game on at 12.30 and Taylor’s naptime close to that, we decided to wait and chow-down on our turkey goodness around 4.00. There is nothing better than Thanksgiving dinner, and even though it was just us, I spared no expense and cooked enough for a small army. Because I guess there is something better than Thanksgiving dinner – LEFTOVERS.

And because last year T was still on pears and other purees, this year was her first real Thanksgiving feast. She was very happy with the rolls, sweet potatoes and green bean casserole, but not too crazy about the turkey or stuffing.

But she enjoyed her meal. She loved it so much, she felt the need to rip off her shirt during a break and put on her shades. Making her the only person I know who feels comfortable exposing her stomach during such a gigantic meal.

Ruby was also very excited about Thanksgiving dinner. SO excited that she let her sister poke and squeeze on her in the kitchen after the meal, anxiously awaiting any scraps we would throw her way.

We were able to spend some time with family on Friday, however, when we took an afternoon trip up north for a short visit with Chris’s cousin and her family. We only able to stay for a few hours, just enough time for Taylor to have lots of fun with her extended cousins and tire herself for the two hour car ride back to Asheville.

We don’t have much planned for the rest of the weekend, other than avoiding the mall and wearing stretchy pants. And today, after our third round of turkey leftovers, Chris finished his sandwich, looked at me and said, Well, I think I’m about DONE with Thanksgiving dinner. Not me, though. There’s still a pumpkin pie calling my name in the fridge. And I’m sure my little T will help me finish it if needed. Preferably without her shirt on, so I feel a little better about my OWN belly while eating it. Gobble-Gobble!