Classic

"Daddy?" four-year old Ashton said as she plopped herself down on the couch next to her father, who was busy feeding Tyler from a bottle. "How long is Tyler going to stay a little baby for?"

"What do you mean?" Freddie asked.

"How long do you and mommy have to feed him and change his diapers and stuff?" Ashton asked.

"Oh," Freddie nodded. "Well, he'll probably drink from his bottles until he's one, and he'll be in diapers until he's around two. You'll see, Ash, he'll grow up quicker than you think."

"But I don't want him to grow up," Ashton pouted. "I like babies. Can't he stay little forever?"

"Aw, princess, mommy and I would love for Tyler and all of you guys to stay little forever," Freddie chuckled. "But unfortunately that's not how it works."
"Well can you and mommy bring home another baby from the hospital when Tyler gets bigger then?" Ashton asked.

"Oh…that's something you're gonna have to talk to mommy about," Freddie said. "I wouldn't get your hopes up though. Hey, if you want, you can help me feed Tyler his bottle. You remember how to hold him right? You need to be very careful."

"Okay!" Ashton said excitedly.

Freddie gently transferred the infant to Ashton and handed over the bottle to his daughter.

"I'm feeding him!" Ashton said proudly. "Look, daddy!"

"Yes, you're doing such a good job, sweetheart," Freddie smiled, pulling out his phone to capture the moment. "Aw, mommy will be so proud of you too, Ashton. I'll show her this picture when she gets home."

Just then Tyler spit the bottle nipple out of his mouth and began to fuss.

"What did I do?" Ashton cried.

"Nothing, he just needs to be burped," Freddie said, picking up Tyler again. "Because you did such a good job feeding him."

"Oh," Ashton said, relieved.

"Hey, since you were such a good girl and helped me with your brother, why don't you go upstairs and watch T.V. in daddy and mommy's room?" Freddie told her.

"Okay!" Ashton cheered as she bounced up and ran upstairs just as the front door opened. Sam walked into the house, absolutely fuming.

"Your mother, Fredwad, I swear to God, your mother…"

"You were with my mom?" Freddie frowned. "I thought you were hanging out at Spencer's?"

"Well she lives across the hall, now doesn't she?" Sam snapped.

"What'd she do, baby?" Freddie sighed.

"You know how I'm cooking Thanksgiving dinner next week?" Sam said. "Well, apparently your mom doesn't think I'm a good enough chef to handle such an important meal!"

"But you cook Thanksgiving dinner every year," Freddie said.

"Yes, but this is the first year since we've been married that your mom's going to be here with us," Sam said. "She usually winds up having to work at the hospital."

"Oh right," Freddie nodded.

"Anyway, she started going on and on about how I need to use ingredients other than butter when I cook, and that a 'proper' meal shouldn't have more grease than a bacon factory. Oh, and she gave me a handout on the 'correct' way to wash your hands before touching food!" Sam said. "But the worst was that she actually suggested that she save everybody the 'hassle' of having to eat my cooking by hiring some vegan chef she met at the community center!"

"Oh boy…" Freddie breathed, knowing a rant was coming up.

"I mean who does she think she is?" Sam snapped. "She thinks she's too good for my cooking? She's lucky she's even invited still after all of that! If she wasn't your mom-"

"Sam, calm down," Freddie said. "Look, everybody knows you're a great cook, and nobody else has ever had any complaints about your Thanksgiving dinner. You know my mom has always been a little…critical, so just don't take what she says to heart and-"

"You know what? I'll just have to make sure this Thanksgiving is extra perfect so your mom has no choice but to eat her words," Sam cut in.

"But we always do have a great Thanksgiving," Freddie said.

"Well this one has to be even better!" Sam snapped. "I'm pulling out all the stops. That way your mom can take her smug look and shove it up her-"

"Okay!" Freddie said quickly. "Baby, don't worry. I'm sure Thanksgiving will be wonderful and my mom won't be able to say one negative thing about it. Now why don't you come and sit down and try to relax. Hey, I know something that will cheer you up? Look at this adorable moment I caught on film a few minutes ago."

He showed Sam the picture of Ashton feeding Tyler from his phone.

"Aw," Sam said, a smile replacing her scowl. "That's so sweet."

"See? Told you that would make you feel better," Freddie said, giving her a quick kiss.

"It did," Sam said. "And now I'm off to start planning a Thanksgiving dinner that will make your mom sorry she ever question me!"

Freddie sighed as Sam stormed out of the room. "Well…so much for the holiday of being thankful for family."

….

"Hey, happy Thanksgiving!" Carly beamed as she walked into the Benson house with her four-year old daughter, Clarissa.

"Happy Thanksgiving," Freddie replied, shutting the door behind her. "Where's Andy?"

"He's going to come over with Spencer and his family during halftime," Carly replied. "They've been glued to some big football game all day."

"Ah," Freddie nodded. "Well Clarissa, Emma and Ashton are playing upstairs in their room if you want to join them."

"Okay!" Clarissa said, scurrying over to the stairs.

"I just love Thanksgiving," Carly said happily as she hung up her coat. "It's such a peaceful holiday."
"Yeah…this one will probably be a little more chaotic than peaceful," Freddie said.

"Why?" Carly frowned.

"My mom's going to be here," Freddie explained.

"I thought she always worked at the hospital on Thanksgiving," Carly said.

"Well this year she got the day off," Freddie said. "And of course she started criticizing Sam about cooking and hosting the holiday."
"Aw jeez," Carly sighed.

"Yup," Freddie nodded. "So for the past week Sam's been going crazy making sure that my mom will have no choice but to 'eat her words'. She's planned a huge meal, even by her standards. We're having turkey, chicken, and duck, six different types of potatoes, some kind of stuffing that takes four hours to make, real cranberry sauce-"

"Oh my God, is she doing all this by herself?" Carly said. "Let me go in there and help her or-"

"Good luck, but she won't let anybody besides her touch a thing," Freddie said.

"Why not?"

"Because it's Sam and she's stubborn," Freddie shrugged.

"Oh right," Carly nodded.

"I'm just hoping that we all make it to dessert in one piece," Freddie said, shaking his head.

"Dad, when are we eating, I'm hungry," Jason moaned.

"Yeah, Freddie, I'm starving too," Gibby nodded.

"Can't you go ask Sam how much longer we have to wait?" Spencer asked. "I haven't eaten all day."
"Guys, I'm sure Sam is almost done, let's just be patient," Freddie said, ignoring his own grumbling stomach.

"Well, you know, they do say punctual meal times are the mark of a good chef," Marissa Benson said from her seat.

"No one says that, mom," Freddie said, rolling his eyes.

"Well just how long is Samantha going to keep us waiting?" Marissa demanded. "I knew this was going to be a disaster. How can someone who is so disorganized expect to be able to pull off hosting one of the most important holidays of the year?"

"Sam does it every year, Mrs. Benson," Carly pointed out.

"Quiet, Sassy Pants!" Marissa snipped.

"Well!" Carly frowned.

"And I suppose the menu Sam has drawn up for us is going to send us all to the hospital from all the grease and fat," Marissa continued.

"Mom's food is really good, grandma," Jason said. "She puts bacon in the mashed potatos!"

"Oh, my poor grandson," Marissa said sadly. "Corrupted at such a young age to think that his food is supposed to be so unhealthy."

"Mom…" Freddie moaned.

"I should've never let this holiday get to this point by letting myself always be schedules for work," Marissa sighed, shaking her head. "What was I thinking? Don't you worry, everybody. Next year I'll take care of Thanksgiving! I'll have my butternut squash and tofu turkey served at a reasonable hour and nobody will have heartburn for weeks after."

"Come on, mom, Sam's worked really hard on this meal," Freddie said. "Please stop being so critical of her. You know how much it bugs me when you act like this."

"Oh, so now it's critical to point out every single thing that my daughter-in-law does wrong?" Marissa frowned.

"Actually, yes, it is!" Freddie said, massaging his temples as he got to his feet. "Ugh, I need Aspirin or something. I guess while I'm up I'll go ahead and see how close to being done Sam is."

"Why don't I come too so I can tell Sam the correct way to set the table," Marissa said. "Heaven knows she won't do it properly."

"Mom, I'm begging you, stay here," Freddie said firmly.

"But she needs to-"

"Here," Freddie said quickly, picking up Tyler from his playpen and handing him over to Marissa. "Play with the baby."

When Freddie entered the kitchen, he was greeted with the sight of his wife running around frantically from pot to pot. She was sweaty, her hair was a mess, and she looked stressed beyond belief.

"Whoa, Sam, are you alright?" Freddie frowned.

"No, I am not alight!" Sam snapped. "My green bean casserole is undercooked, the yams fell onto the floor while I was stirring the gravy and all of my mashed potatoes are way too lumpy! This is a disaster! I'm never going to get to rub my perfect Thanksgiving in your mom's face at this rate!"

"Hey, sure you will," Freddie said encouragingly. "So-So your sides might not be, er, absolutely perfect, but they are just sides. The main dish that people care about at Thanksgiving is the turkey! And I'm sure your turkey is going to be-"

"Aw chiz!" Sam gasped, rushing over to the over. "I forgot to set the timer! My turkey! My duck! My chicken!"

She opened the over door and at once a cloud of smoke came out, causing Sam and Freddie to cough loudly.

"They're ruined!" Sam moaned as Freddie quickly opened up the back door to vent the room.

"No," Freddie said, his voice still raspy from the smoke. "They're not ruined! They're just…extra crispy."
"They're cremated!" Sam snapped. She collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs and put her head down on the table. "Well…there you go then. I destroyed Thanksgiving."

"Sam, you didn't-"

"All the food is ruined, of course I destroyed Thanksgiving!" Sam yelled. "And even worse, now instead of forcing your mom to eat her words, I'm going to have to eat mine! She was right; I couldn't do this."

"Sam, what are you talking about, you manage to put together a great Thanksgiving every year," Freddie said. "In the nine years we've hosted Thanksgiving without my mom being here, not a single person has had one complaint. Well, that year Gibby was really into those Fancy Living magazines he made a few comments about the centerpiece, but that's just Gibby. My point is, you're not some failure because of this. The only reason things got, um, slightly out of hand this year is because you went a tad overboard trying to impress my mom this year."

Sam sighed. "I just…She still doesn't think I'm good enough for you. After nine years of marriage I can tell, she still wishes you would've wound up with someone better than me. I know we've 'made our peace' and she's learned to somewhat tolerate me, but-but when she makes comments like-like how I can't handle putting together a 'proper' Thanksgiving, I can tell…If I could've just managed to pull off this perfect Thanksgiving then maybe she would've at least approved of one thing I did."

Freddie put his arm around her. "Baby, it's okay. I know things didn't go as planned today, but-but don't let this stuff with my mom get you down on your favorite holiday. We-We'll fix all of this."

"How? There's no food, people are starving…" Sam said. "What are we supposed to do?"

"We're going to do what I do every time I cook and wind up ruining the meal," Freddie said, pulling out his phone. "Call in for take-out to save the day."

"Who would've thought pizza on Thanksgiving would taste so good," Spencer said an hour later as the group sat around the dining room table.

"I'm surprised there was even a pizza place open today," Carly said.

"Well good thing there was, or we'd all be starving," Sam mumbled.

"Yes, I suppose it is a good idea to have a few back-up options available for when this important holiday slips away from some people," Marissa said curtly, cutting into her own vegetable slice with a fork and knife.

"I like pizza for Thanksgiving, mommy," Emma said. "Can we have pizza again next year?"

"Napkins, anybody?" Freddie offered quickly, seeing his mom's mouth open to comment.

"I told you," Sam whispered to Freddie. "I told you your mom would love to rub in the fact that I couldn't pull off a perfect Thanksgiving. Look at her over there…she's loving this."

"Baby, baby, baby," Freddie chuckled. "I think you forgot about something. This is my mom, right? What's the one thing she loves more than criticizing you?"

"Um…nothing?" Sam frowned.

"No, drooling over her grandchildren," Freddie whispered.

"Yeah, so?" Sam said, confused. "But what good is that going to do-oh! Oh! I can't believe I forgot about that!"

"Bring it out, Sam," Freddie grinned.

"Okay, kids, how about you show everybody the skit that you worked on all day yesterday?" Sam said.

All the kids at the table began to cheer excitedly.

"Skit?" Marissa said. "What skit?"

"Oh, it's part of our Thanksgiving festivities," Freddie said. "Every year all the kids put on a little skit during dinner. It's always adorable. Actually, Sam came up with the idea five years ago. And this year she worked with them all day yesterday."

"I helped this year too," eleven-year old Dina said proudly as the kids all hurried to the middle of the room. "Me and Aunt Sam even found parts for Tyler and Huey, even though they're both just babies."

"A skit? With my precious grandbabies?" Marissa said, her face lighting up. "Well what are we doing eating?"

She pulled out her phone and quickly brought up her camera.

"Our play is about Thanksgiving at the zoo," Jason told his grandmother. "With all the animals."

"I'm a monkey!" Ashton said happily.

"And I'm a lion!" Emma beamed. "Roar!"

"We even made costumes," Jason added as he passed out paper-plate masks that the children had designed the previous day.

"Oh my goodness! Now stand still so I can get some pictures," Marissa said. "The girls at the hospital will just love this!"

"Hey you guys, show grandma Tyler's costume for the skit," Freddie said.

Emma picked up a pair of mouse ears and placed them on the infant's head.

Marissa nearly toppled out of her chair.

"Look at him!" she gasped. "Look at my precious grandbaby! I've never seen anything so adorable! And-And this was your planning, Samantha?"

"Yup," Sam said.

"Really makes Thanksgiving something special, doesn't it?" Freddie said, putting an arm around his wife. "So it looks like Sam can handle taking care of this holiday, doesn't it? I mean, you certainly seem to be having a good time, at least. So is there anything you'd like to say to Sam?"

Marissa sighed. "Fine, fine. Samantha, I'm sorry if I was a bit…doubtful that you could handle such an important, family holiday. Clearly you can manage just fine. Now Fredward Benson you come over here and show me how to zoom in with my camera this instant! And why have you never given me any pictures from these past skits? You were glued to your silly cameras for years and you can't even be bothered to use them now to take pictures of your children for me? Do you just hate your mother? Is that it?"

"Well," Sam chuckled to her husband as she leaned back in her seat. "Sounds like she's your problem now, baby."