Thankgiving was about what you’d expect. Too much food and we watched some TV. It was nice.
All but one thing. I got stuck at the Kids’ Table. Actually, it’s not really the Kids’ Table anymore. We don’t have enough kids around to warrant their own table. It’s just the Annex, Overflow Eating if you will. You don’t fit at the Main Table? To the folding table at the end with you! No big deal, it’s all the same food, it’s in the same room, it’s butted up against the Main Table for cryin’ out loud. But still, it’s the Kids’ Table.
By rights I should get the Main Table. Not am I the only sib to take the huge step to adultness and sire progeny, but by all the rights of primogeniture I should get the whole “Right Hand” treatment. (Man, being First Born Male just isn’t worth beans any more. Dad was First Born Male before me. I should be sittin’ pretty with a Barony headin’ my way. Stupid fall of the Feudal System. Of course I probably come from a long line of serfs, but let’s not get into that right now. 'K?) But do I? (Back to the whole “Right Hand” treatment here. Keep up.) Noooooo, of course not.
Nominally, I get seated at the Kids’ Table to ride herd on aforementioned progeny. I get one and the Little Woman gets the other. Divide and conquer, and make sure they eat something without turning over the whole table. But come on! That’s what Grandma’s for! (My Mom. Once the kids showed up, everyone got promoted one notch. Skippy is Uncle Skippy, Dad is Grandpa, Grandma is Great Grandma, like that.) Not that it’s all that hard to get the kids to eat on Thanksgiving. (The Little Woman: “I don’t think Katcha’s eating enough.” Me: “Whaddaya mean? He’s been grazing all day. He’s eaten his own body weight in crackers and grapes. Plus summer sausage and cheese.” T.L.W.: “I don’t know…” Sidenote: Where was the Little Woman when Katcha presented evidence of his Thanksgiving Feast? Out shopping. That was one spectacular diaper. Phew! Never let your child eat his own body weight in crackers and grapes. Just a tip.)
So Thanksgiving was pretty good. I just got a bad seat for the Main Event.
And it’s going to be the same at Christmas, I just know it.
-Rue.
Ray, do what I do and just make sure that you’re near the keg. It really helps make the time go by faster, and gives one a real zen approach when the little boogers start being little boogers.
that or really read grandma her miranda. I mean fill or kill here, you wanted grandkids, you got grandkids. It’s not like you have ‘em forever, or you won’t be givin’ them back at the end of the day. and who gets to change that diaper, nooooooooo not you, even though you’re a pro that’s changed more a few kids diaper in her day. and that was back when diapers were diapers and not these disposable things. Yep, that’s right, I let you play Grandma and everything. You can feed 'em chocolate all day long and not have to clean up the detrius, but for crying out loud, lemme just stuff my face during the holiday feast, is that too much to ask?
My wife and I had to sit at the kids table (in a different room) until someone died to make room for us. I think we were married for 2-3 years before we “graduated” to the big table.
There were 9 of us total, including 2 kids. One table. Not sure if it was the “big” table or the kids’ table, considering the conversations…
Oh yeah, and FIL insisted we all say what we were thankful for - sheesh, he’s gotta stop watching them warm-n-fuzzy holiday specials. Personally, I’d have been thankful to eat in my own house with my own tiny little family, but that’s a rant unto itself.
That makes for a festive holiday, doesn’t it Kamikazee?
“Uncle Bob doesn’t look too good, maybe one of us will get to the big table soon.”
“If he goes while he’s driving Aunt Edith to the doctor’s we both might make it.”
We had 16, 10 adults and 6 kids. Maybe 9 adults and 7 kids, since Great Grandma’s not what she once was. Only had 1 glass of Chardonnay, problem is she had the same “one glass” about 8 or 9 times. She was sent to bed first. But I digress. The weather was beautiful so we ate out on the porch. Adults got the big long picnic table. Kids got the small, plastic Fischer Price picnic table*. Then there was the card table annex. My youngest brother and his son, who is the eldest male grandchild of direct lineage, ate at this table. Then my Mops (Grandma) joined them there so they wouldn’t be lonely. My brother’s kid is severely shy, so as they just came in the day before, bro’ was worried that he wouldn’t sit with the other kids. I think this may have been overanalyzing the situation, but it’s his call. Anyway both bottles of wine were at our table, but the card table was closer to the fridge with the beer. Three refrigerators at my folks house, plus a full standup freezer. I think they even have a second mini-fridge in reserve just in case. Food and drink are never a big issue there.
*There was a territorial dispute between my daughter, the eldest grandchild of direct lineage and my sister’s daughter, who lives in the area and therefore considers everything her territory. They had a spat over who got to sit in the cool high density molded plastic miniature garden chair on the end like queen of the world instead of on the bench seat with the surfs. We settled this with Solomnic wisdom (no, we didn’t cut the chair in half, we just removed it to the garage).
We had a small gathering this year (6 full-price, 2 half-price) as opposed to last year (12 Rated PG, 2 Rated G). So there was little dispute. One big table. Older brother’s son (3, heir apparent. Damn this monarchal system, I hate being Prince Andrew) was thrilled that he got his own special table (more of a TV tray actually) sidled up to the main feast, whilst the cutest-little-girl-in-the-whole-world™ (1-1/2, mine - natch) technically had a seat at the round table but preferred playing free safety.
Dinner was penalty free, although one of the refs was debating a roughing call midway through dessert.
All-in-all a pleasant time.
The only thing that was hard was being away from here for a few days. Between travel and other commitments, I had four days worth of posts to catch up on. No, I don’t think I have a problem, why do you ask?
Ahhh memories. I recall one thanksgiving in which my Father in law was getting very animated in his rant on whatever was pissing him off that day. I left my seat at the kids table and walked behind him and touched his bald spot which was red from anger, and said “ouch thats hot”. Needless to say he really hit the roof then, F*** all of you is the direct quote IIRC. Every one else thought it was funny as heck.
But at the annex table you can still eat like a kid - of course now, I have to buy the Super Mega-Jumbo Collosal[sup]TM[/sup] pitted black olives, othewise they split apart when I’d put them on my fingers. Don’t tell me you folks have forgoten the joys of eating like a kid - mashed potato volcanos with gravy lava - mmmmmmmmm.
Of course, this year’s dinner was chicken broth. Bleah.
Couple of years ago my sister relegated me to the kids’ table. I had a few brews in me by then, and didn’t notice if it was intended as an insult. Instead, I saw a virgin audience for all of my stupid jokes, and tablemates who could really appreciate a nice audible fart or belch. Most fun I ever had at a family gathering! For some reason or another, I am no longer allowed to sit with my buddies. Something about being a bad influence or some such. Hey! It’s not like we had a food fight.
We don’t do the kids table anymore. Family got so big that everyone mutinies and sits where they want. My Mom had Thanksgiving this year, and we had people in the dining room, living room, family room, downstairs office, porch, kitchen, wherever they want to park. The nicely set dining chairs are usually eschewed for couches and porch swings these days. It’s all about comfort!
One cool thing is that we do our Christmas name drawing on Thanksgiving. My sister, who’s 26 and recently married, now has pick another adult name for herself, and one for her husband. However, although I am 30, since I am not married, I still get to be pooled as one of the kids. Drew the name of an 8 year old, for whom my Mommy will buy a gift and foot the bill, while sis and hubby are saving to buy two grown-up gifts. Whoo-hoo! My boyfriend and I told the fam that’s worth putting off getting hitched for a while!
We all sat at the card table (actually 2 card tables of slightly different heights). Why? Mr. Pol’s dad was working a jigsaw puzzle and didn’t want to move it off the dining room table…
Not a Thanksgiving story - but a big family get-together none the less…
In the 1940’s My grandparents bought a cottage on Lake Michigan. 3 bedrooms - 5 children. Needless to say, when the 5 kids grew up - the cottage got renovated. The septic tank did not.
One Fourth of July about 15 years ago - all 5 adult kids plus 1.75 kids apiece were gathered around the big table when in walks Grandpa with a pickaxe.
Trust me - you will remember the day your grandpa threatens you with a pickaxe … even if it’s just to tell you to “Stop throwing TP down the commode! It’s stopped up the septic tank again!”
BTW, the pickaxe was to pry up the cover of the septic tank.
The next summer we built a new septic system - probably used the same darn pickaxe, too…
There’s a very simple solution to this problem: make sure your Thanksgiving involves a herd, which means there are so many tables at various locations, temperatures and temperaments that no one ends up annoyed.
We had 45 this year, from six states. A half-dozen are baby-to-seven, then one or two college kids. It’s a very pleasant generational moment, actually; the vast majority can (and do) drink. So that meant one table in the kitchen, one in the garage, two on the driveway, and one on the deck.
We’ve gotten away from the mega-meal at Thanksgiving. Since moving into our own house two years ago, we’ve kept this holiday to ourselves, even though my parents live in the same town and my brother and his family live one town over. Ten minute drive max for any of us.
There were only five of us at Thanksgiving a la Casa Dave-Guy this year, and since our dining table seats six, there was no kid’s table. Just The Dave-Guy, Mrs. Dave-Guy, Sakura, Halford the Human Eel[sup]TM[/sup], and Bill, who teaches across the hall from Mrs. Dave-Guy. Bill is always welcome at our house, especially when he brings cognac/pumpkin cheesecake for dessert.
But last summer, my other brother got remarried, and only my wife and I were able to go. Because it was a very small reception, we were seated with my brother’s son and his wife, and my brother’s daughter and a friend of hers. No problem, as we really like these young adults, and we had a great time with them. But midway through the meal, Mrs. Dave-Guy exclaims, “Hey! We’re sitting at the kid’s table!” Hilarity ensued.
