Leftovers: A McFadden Thanksgiving Weekend

"But, why?"

"I told you before. Because."

"Because, why?"

Adam sighed. "Aren't you a little too big to be asking 'why' all the time? Only little kids do that."

"But I'm only five. I ain't big yet."

His thoughts scattered with the upcoming holiday break and how he was going to keep his sometimes wild younger brothers contained, the eldest McFadden tried not to smile at his youngest brother's earnest answer, but it broke through anyway. He tried an encouraging tone. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Why not?"

Guthrie's eyes widened. "See, you said 'why' too."

"But I only said it once. You say it all the time."

"You say it other times, too, and so does everybody else."

Adam shook his head. Getting through to the five-year-old was often a losing proposition, especially with so many personalities around who had their own opinions. "Yes, we do all say it, but you say it more than the rest of us."

Guthrie thought a moment. "Are you countin'?"

A belly laugh came out of nowhere behind them. They both turned to see Brian coming around the corner of the house. "Of course he's counting, Guthrie. All the time. With every one of us." He cupped Adam's shoulder. "Sometimes I wonder how he gets anything else done around here."

Adam scolded, "Not around the five-year-old, Bri."

"Why not?" Brian still sported an impish grin. "It's not like he doesn't know everything that goes on around here. He's five going on ten."

Adam continued the thought. "And a smart aleck to boot!"

"One of the very best, and a chip off the old block, if I say so myself!" Brian lifted Guthrie onto his shoulder. "Come on, half-stuff, let's go help brother Crane with the chores. We'll leave the old man to himself. He's getting crankier with every holiday."

Adam could not help chuckling as he watched them head toward the barn. He shouted after them, "I owe you one, Bri!"

~~oo00oo~~

Adam entered the house by the side door to find brothers four through six at the kitchen table doing homework. He looked over Ford's shoulder. "Good penmanship, Fordie."

The eight-year-old grinned. "Thanks, Adam."

Daniel leaned over to take a look. "It looks good now, Ford, but wait 'til you have more homework than hours in the day and have to do chores, too. It'll be barely readable at that point!"

"Enough, Daniel," Adam admonished. "Concentrate on your own work."

Evan closed his book. "Finished that chapter. Gonna take a break and help Bri with the chores."

"Nope, he's got that covered. Put your things away and help me with dinner," Adam ordered.

Daniel looked skeptical. "You're cooking?"

Evan laughed. "Yeah, Adam, more like heating up leftovers!"

"You two forget who used to cook when Brian was in school all day like the rest of you hooligans? Anyway, it's not like any of us can't put a meal together when we have to," Adam noted.

"Guthrie would have the table all sticky if he made us all PB&J's!" Daniel had a hard time keeping a straight face. "We'd spend more time cleaning up than eating!"

"And you'd eat it gratefully and clean up without complaint," Adam said.

"Yeah, right!" Daniel and Evan said in unison before high-fiving.

The eldest's tone turned serious. "Yes, you would. Just like everyone else will when it's your turn to cook—this weekend!"

"Oh, come on, Adam. We were just kidding. It's a holiday weekend!" Evan complained. "I have a ton of homework and wanted to go fishing!"

"If the chores and homework are done, maybe we can all go fishing on Sunday after church. But with Bri, Crane, and me taking care of Thanksgiving tomorrow, there'll be plenty of food around for you three to take care of a meal the rest of the weekend."

~~oo00oo~~

Thanksgiving Day dawned bright, clear, and cool. The youngest four McFaddens took care of morning chores and devoured a cold breakfast.

Before they scattered, Adam reminded them, "Remember what I said about going fishing Sunday if all your homework is done. Do it now if you're not gonna watch the parade. I saw in the paper they're supposed to have some new balloons."

"I sat through the whole thing last year," Evan said. He waved his book aloft. "I'll be in the barn reading."

"My homework's almost done and I'll finish it tomorrow," Ford said in his matter-of-fact way.

"Ford, you're just a show-off." Daniel smirked. "Next thing you know you'll be wanting a medal to show you won the homework race!"

"No, I won't!" Ford retorted.

"Enough!" Adam sighed. "Can't we have a nice, peaceful holiday without all the fussing?"

"Sure." Daniel shrugged. "Guess this is my cue to disappear." He turned toward the stairs.

"You don't have to disappear. Just keep the noise down," Adam exhorted.

The middle brother stopped in his tracks. "Hey, Crane, want to work on the new song?"

The third oldest, quiet to this point, looked over his shoulder as he handed Brian a platter from the hutch. "Busy. Maybe after dinner."

"Okey-dokey." After a glance at the two youngest glued to the Macy's Thanksgiving parade on the TV, Daniel bounded up the steps and disappeared into his room.

~~oo00oo~~

With able help from Adam and Crane, Brian by early afternoon had the Thanksgiving feast ready to go. Adam insisted the boys put on clean shirts for the occasion and took no pushback. After grace, they all tucked in and before long were sated, and then some.

Before doling out chores to clean up, Adam noted the abundance of leftovers to Daniel, Evan, and Ford. "Okay, guys, like we talked about yesterday, it'll be your responsibility to make dinner the next few days. You can use whatever leftovers there are or anything in the pantry. Just make sure Bri, Crane, or I are around in case you need help cutting something or with the stove." He smirked. "Otherwise, dinner is up to you."

The three exchanged skeptical looks but seemed up to the challenge. Daniel and Evan shrugged.

Daniel said, "No problem!"

Evan added, "Piece of cake."

The magic word attracted someone else's attention. Guthrie asked, "We're havin' cake for dinner?"

"Uh, not quite," Crane replied.

"Why not?" the five-year-old pouted.

"Because!" Adam explained, ending the conversation.

A little later, with the kitchen cleaned up, Guthrie off to bed, and the next three youngest attending to evening chores, Brian opined, "That wasn't the best idea you've ever had, you know, those three making dinner."

Adam shrugged. "Why not? They're old enough to start taking more responsibility, and the kitchen's a good place to start."

Crane quipped, "Better make sure we're not out of Pepto."

~~oo00oo~~

In the barn, conversation turned to weekend activities. Rather than work together in the kitchen all three days, Daniel and Evan decided it would be fairer for each of them to take a day. Wanting to get it over with, Daniel chose Friday and Evan took Saturday, leaving Ford with Sunday.

"Why can't I go first?" the eight-year-old asked.

"'Cause you might need more time to choose what to make," Daniel said. "I know what I'm making so might as well go first."

Evan chimed in, "I know, too."

Ford seemed bewildered. "I've never made a meal before."

"Sure you do," Daniel said. "What about all those times you make us breakfast? That counts."

"But all I do is pour cereal into the bowls."

"Still counts," agreed Evan. "It doesn't have to be fancy, just something to eat."

"Just watch what we do, Ford," urged Daniel. "That'll give you some ideas."

~~oo00oo~~

Friday morning found Crane staring into the refrigerator. It was stuffed to the brim with the remnants of Thursday's feast. "Bri, where are the eggs?"

Brian barely turned to answer. "Probably way in the back and not worth unpacking everything for. Just have cereal."

Brother number three sighed. "Guess it's cold breakfasts until most of the leftovers are gone."

"Yep," Brian answered, "they're the best part of Thanksgiving."

~~oo00oo~~

Unlike Crane that morning, Daniel busied himself in the late afternoon with locating and pulling from the fridge a certain few items. Laying them out just so on the kitchen counter as one might curate an art exhibit, he made a one-man assembly line.

Adam looked in from the next room. "You okay? Need any help?"

Daniel smiled. "Nope, I got this."

The eldest watched the soon-to-be twelve-year-old for a moment. The middle McFadden brother could be a little sensitive sometimes but overall was smart, creative, and confident, without the brashness of a Brian or Evan. Indeed, Daniel did have this. Adam started to pull plates from a cabinet.

"Don't worry about that, Adam. I'll set the table."

Yep, the eldest thought. He certainly does have this.

~~oo00oo~~

"Not really original, Daniel," Brian noted.

"Looks more like lunch," Crane chimed in as he took his seat.

Adam admonished, "Instead of complaining, how about we enjoy what Daniel put in front of us. After yesterday, I think we can eat more simply for a few days."

"But we had turkey sandwiches for lunch," Guthrie complained.

"Not with potato chips," Ford said as he dug in.

"Yeah, and the chips're on the sandwich. It's great, Daniel!" praised Evan. "Maybe you should write a cookbook."

Daniel beamed. "Gee, thanks, Ev!"

"It's dry," Brian said. "Pass the mayonnaise."

~~oo00oo~~

Saturday dawned overcast and cool. A slight drizzle did not impede chores bit did dampen spirits a bit—except for Evan.

Daniel asked, "What're you so happy about?"

"Nothin'. Just gonna see how much I can one-up you for dinner tonight."

"It can't be done! You're the one who said I should write a cookbook." Daniel's chest puffed out just enough to give him an air of cockiness.

Crane rolled his eyes as he passed by. "When did this become a competition?"

"Don't worry, it's friendly," Evan smiled.

The third-born shook his head. "Just make sure you two don't get swelled heads. We can't afford new hats for either of ya."

~~oo00oo~~

As with Daniel the evening before, Evan lined up everything he needed for dinner preparation. But, then, Adam had to admit, they had long made school lunches that way, so it was natural it would pour over into whatever they did—in the kitchen or otherwise—sort of the logical extension of things. And, as Daniel yesterday, Evan shooed the eldest from the kitchen.

A while later, they all took their seats. After grace, a couple of the brothers examined the sandwich in front of them.

Adam noticed. "Just eat, okay?" To make himself a shining example, he took a hearty bite and chewed. And chewed some more. He and several others reached for their beverages. Taking a gulp, the eldest managed an unconvincing, "That's good, Ev."

Not one to mince words, Brian said, flatly, "It's dry. Nothin' but cold bread on bread with a little turkey. Pass the mayo, please."

"It's not bread, it's stuffing!" Evan defended himself. "And you don't put mayo on stuffing!"

"Stuffing is bread with a few spices. It tastes good when it's hot but cold, not so much. Now, heat up the stuffing and the turkey and add some cranberry sauce and that's some good eatin'." Brian glanced at Evan as he spoke and realized he had gone too far. "Sorry, Ev. I'm surprised we all survived my first cooking projects."

Adam reached to his right and rubbed Evan's back. The youngster was near tears. "It's okay, champ. Everything takes practice. Thanks for making dinner tonight."

Being surrounded by silence and glum faces did not deter five-year-old Guthrie from taking another bite. He chewed out loud for a moment before reaching for his chocolate milk and taking a big gulp that left a chocolate mustache. To no one in particular, he blurted out, "It's drier than Daniel's but it goes real good with chocolate milk!"

Evan led the others in laughter.

~~oo00oo~~

A light drizzle on Sunday morning turned into a steady rain on Sunday afternoon, dashing all hopes for a family fishing trip. With all homework and chores done, the four youngest McFadden boys sat in front of the TV, flipping the dial.

"There's nothing on," Daniel complained.

"We can watch the commercials," Ford offered. "Brian always says they're the best part."

"Why?" Guthrie asked.

Evan shrugged. "I don't know. Some of them are funny."

"And some are just plain s-t-u-p-i-d," Daniel opined.

The youngest's brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"

"Nothin'," Daniel replied.

"Then why'd ya say it?" retorted Guthrie.

"Because."

"Daniel!"

"Enough!" Adam entered the room. "Shut off the TV and find something to do." His voice rose. "And if you can't find something to do on your own, I'll find something for you to do!"

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dad."

"I'm not kidding, Daniel! Upstairs right now, and don't come down until I say you can. And no music!"

No music? The middle brother realized he had gone too far. Contrite, he gulped and his voice grew small. "I'm sorry, Adam."

The eldest ignored him. To the rest he said, "Let's play a board game. Guthrie, pick one. How about Candyland?"

"That's for babies."

Adam was losing his patience. "Okay, then which one?"

"Clue."

"You're too young for that one."

The youngest thought. "Battleship." Then, he added, "Me and Evan can be a team."

"That one's too old for you, too."

At the same time Guthrie whined, "Aw, come on, Adam. I played it before," Daniel tried again to apologize, a little louder this time.

At his wit's end, Adam raised his voice again. "Find something quiet to do, all of you!"

The silence that followed was deafening. It rang in all of their ears. Thirty seconds … forty-five … sixty. Brian and Crane sat at the kitchen table, not daring to enter the living room.

Finally, Adam spoke. "So that's what it takes to get some peace around here?" Calmer now, he asked, "Does anyone have any questions?"

As if on cue, Guthrie's stomach rumbled. "Yeah! Can we eat?"

~~oo00oo~~

Given the lunch-type nature of Daniel's and Evan's dinner offerings the previous evenings, Ford dove into his own mid-day meal prep with some trepidation. The eight-year-old wanted to be different but did not know how to do that. Smart as he was in school, the kitchen eluded him, except for the breakfast cereal preparation compliment Evan had bestowed on him. He was proud of that.

He decided to make something he knew how to do already but with something else added to it. So, after sometime in the kitchen with Crane nearby in case needed, he presented his brothers with what he called 'PBJT's'—peanut butter, jelly, and turkey sandwiches, with sides of potato chips and chocolate milk. Given Evan's reaction to criticism of his proffered meal last evening, big brother Adam had set no complaining as a ground rule, and they all dug in—Ford and Guthrie heartily, and the others not so much.

Nonetheless, Ford received compliments from around the table, albeit forced from some of them, and the eight-year-old beamed like a lantern in the dark. The pure joy the sixth brother exuded at that moment moved Adam, even if the mess in the kitchen belied the accomplishment.

The rest of Sunday passed without incident and back into a regular rhythm as the weekend wore down. It was, after all, a school night. After a proper Brian-prepared dinner of turkey tetrazzini made from Thanksgiving leftovers, the boys attended to evening chores and prepared their backpacks. The longer Christmas break was less than a month away, and Adam looked forward to the peace the structure of a normal routine would bring, even if the days did not pass quickly enough for his younger brothers. He hoped the season of peace remained peaceful at least through Christmas Day, but after that all bets were off. But, not to get too far ahead of himself, he watched them trail upstairs to bed, and as rambunctious and knuckleheaded as they could all be, all was right with the world.

~Fin.