11/26/2015 (a.k.a Thanksgiving)
Dear Journal, (And no this is not a diary. That stuff's for girls.)
Thanksgiving day started out rather well. One might even call it peaceful. A certain British gentleman named Arthur (we call him dad) woke up promptly at six, as always, and started preparing for the day. Everyone else was woken up by the fire alarm. Needless to say, the day went downhill from there.
Screams echoed through the house as us kids made a mad dash outside. Alfred, the oldest, jumped out of his window to the ground in a blind panic. His room was three floors up. Needless to say, we then had to take an unscheduled trip to the doctor's office.
One uncomfortable cast later, and we were off to a certain frenchman's house. The frenchman in question was named Francis, our uncle. After hearing our story, it took us about half an hour to revive the poor guy. He had suffered from a fit of laughter followed by a fist in the face, courtesy of a person who would prefer to remain anonymous (*cough*Dad*cough*).
Once revived though, Francis was more than willing to help out with the preparations. What was pretty cool was that us kids got to help out with the cooking. Well everyone except Alfred. He couldn't do much with his cast. We even guilt tripped dad into hanging out with him so that Alfred wouldn't hurt himself. We also did that so we could keep Dad as far away from the kitchen as possible. You don't even want to know what happened to the turkey that he had tried to make earlier. I already told you the results. You know: smoke alarm, Alfred jumping out of a window. Needless to say, we were lucky this time.
Matthew, the second oldest and quiet one who we have dubbed 'The Blonde Ninja', helped out Uncle Francis the most. You know, doing the boring jobs such as mixing and adding ingredients. I on the other hand got the best job. I was the self proclaimed taste tester. It was my job to make sure that the food was safe to eat. You may laugh, but I have probably saved my family from being poisoned on multiple occurrences. Who would dare poison food if they knew that someone always checked it? That's why I can never let my guard down. I am certain that if I turn my back for even a moment someone will sneak something into the brownies or the custard. It also never hurts to double check.
Sadly, I am an unsung hero. After my attempt to taste test the turkey while it was still in the oven, I was banished to the living room with Alfred and Dad. Oh sorry. I meant, 'sent to entertain them with my fanciful stories'. Seriously, who talks like that anymore? My uncle is a bit weird. Must be from getting hit over the head by Dad so many times.
Spending time with Alfred and Dad wasn't too bad though. We played some board games, and Alfred even let me sign his cast. I also got to help him draw an American flag as well as a boat in different colored sharpies. Dad also got to sign his name in his fancy squiggly handwriting. He calls it cursive. It looks girly. Alfred laughed so hard when I told Dad my opinion, that he accidentally bumped his broken arm on the small table. Dad went into his mother hen mode, and Matthew and Uncle Francis poked their heads in to see what all the screaming was about.
Alfred had been put in a pillow cocoon after that. If Dad had his way, we'd all be wrapped in bubble wrap. I felt kinda bad for Dad though. He had to put up with Alfred's death glares until the food was ready. Apparently Alfred didn't appreciate being 'babied' as he put it.
I have to give it to Matt and Francis. They certainly know how to make a feast. It was so much better than Dad's cooking! Don't tell Dad I said that though!
At the end I had only eaten a little bit too much. Alfred wasn't as lucky. He had to go and lay down on the couch because his tummy hurt too much for him to move. Alfred's just had a rough day today. His injuries didn't get him out of our family tradition though. We all had to say what we were grateful for.
Dad went all cheesy and said he was grateful that us kids and that we were all safe and in one piece. Alfred had a coughing fit when he said that. I wonder if he is coming down with something.
Francis said he was grateful for us all too as well as his cooking abilities. He got a death-glare from Dad for that.
Alfred said he was grateful for video games and fast food restaurants. That's Alfred for you.
Matthew said he was grateful for fall, all the leaves that changed color, and our dog, Kuma. I don't get Matt sometimes.
When it was my turn, I thought long and hard about what I was grateful for. Finally, I realized the perfect answer. I was grateful that Dad had burnt the turkey to oblivion so that we could visit Uncle Francis. I was grateful that Alfred had broken his arm when he jumped out his window so that I could write on his cast and play board games with him. I was grateful that Matt had helped out Francis so that I could sneak… um… I mean taste test the food.
When everyone heard what I had to say they all just kind of looked at me odd. Then Alfred started laughing really hard. Matt wasn't far behind, and then Uncle Francis and Dad joined in.
So in conclusion, this Thanksgiving started out pretty bad but ended up great! Also I am pretty certain that someone snuck a sleeping poison into the turkey because it made me super tired. I told them they should have let me taste test it!
Well I guess that's all. I will write more later.
Sincerely, Peter Kirkland