Okay, I know nothing about Thanksgiving. Never been to one. We don't celebrate it, so I have had to google in order to get a bit of an idea. Sorry if I am too far wrong.

Thanksgiving Headaches and Other Traditions

Part One – Turbulence

Flying at Thanksgiving was the worst. Not only had their flight been delayed – twice – but as they took their seats Oliver and Shane realised that they would be spending the more than three-hour flight in the vicinity of a very loud pre-school aged travelling companion and his very stressed looking father. The safety briefing was barely over, but the miniature traveller had already wanted a drink, a snack, his 'binky' and had asked 'why' at least a million times. The child's father shushed in vain.

Oliver leaned over to Shane and asked, 'Are you using listening to anything on your earphone things?'

'Not yet, but it is highly likely.'

'How much do you want for them?'

Shane blinked and then laughed. 'Oh no O'Toole! These are all mine!'

Oliver sighed, muttered something about marriage being about sharing, and then picked up his book, ready to lose (hopefully) himself in the pages of Reynold's 'Walt Whitman's America'. Another shrieked 'why', caused him to glance across the aisle. Catching the eye of the rowdy questioner, Oliver received a tongue poked in his direction for his pains. Oliver turned to his book, horrified. Shane, who had witnessed the exchange in great amusement, poked hers in response, making the fellow cry. She felt a (very) little bad, until she realised that he had in fact cried himself to sleep. Smirking, she picked up her tablet and opened the New York Times crossword app.

Peace reigned for several minutes, until a small storm blew into the plane's business-class cabin.

'Cornell,' Oliver remarked.

'I'm sorry?' Shane looked confused.

'Three down. The answer is Cornell.'

'Thank you…honey,' Shane answered through clenched teeth.

Silence existed for a few minutes. Then everyone's favourite traveller woke up – loudly, and Oliver failed to learn from the previous response and offered, 'Twelve across is symptom'.

He was unprepared for the speed at which Shane turned to him, or the venom in her gaze. He merely looked confused.

'What?' he asked.

Oliver O'Toole,' Shane began, 'I love you more than life itself, but if you attempt to tell me any more answers in my crossword, I am swapping places with 'Raucous' over there!'

Oliver gulped. 'Point taken.'

He returned to his book. Shane smiled sweetly as she patted him on the chest.

'I always knew you were clever, Mr O'Toole

Traditions Old and New

Shane and Oliver arrived at Sharon's door at 8:00 a.m. Oliver was not sure what was in store, but arriving for lunch at breakfast time did seem, different. The buzzer had barely been rung before Shane and Oliver were dragged inside, and then hugged and kissed by both Alex and Sharon. Under her breath, Shane counted, 'Three, two, one … go!'

'Oliver dearie,' Sharon began, 'Don't you look nice!' Shane and Alex synchronised eye rolls as Oliver glanced down at his (he thought) unremarkable khakis, oxford shirt and sweater.

'And Shaney,' Sharon continued, 'Well I suppose it is just family after all, and you are not dressing to impress…'

Shane had thought that her blazer, cardigan, jeans, and seriously gorgeous taupe ankle boots ensemble was cute, but she now wilted a little under a Sharon assault. With that, Sharon returned to the kitchen, leaving Oliver to whisper in Shane's ear, 'I think you look amazing.'

She blushed and smiled at him until the mood was completely ruined by Alex who remarked, 'Yeh, Ralph and Lauren, you look cute!'

Shane narrowed her eyes at her sister who gave her back a bland look. The trio made their way to the kitchen, ready to help prepare a new McInerney tradition - thanksgiving breakfast pies. The idea may have come from Oprah, but Shane thought it was a solid one. Shane lent over to whisper to Oliver, 'If I send Joe a text, I am sure that he will call faking an emergency, necessitating our immediate return to Denver…'

Oliver whispered in return, 'You create a diversion, and I'll grab the pies!'

Shane giggled. Alex dryly commented, 'If you are leaving, you're taking me with you!'

Breakfast was served, eaten, and cleared. Alex jumped up from the table, returning quickly with four small notebooks and pens.

'Mom, Shane,' Alex exclaimed, 'It is time to introduce Oliver to a time-honoured McInerney tradition! Oliver, welcome to the Macy's Parade Drinking Game.'

Oliver grabbed the notebook and pen Alex thew in his direction. He carefully wrote hour letters on the page, then held it up to both his mother-n-law and his wife. Both laughed and Shane gave his hand a squeeze.

'Sorry, Oliver,' Shane laughed, 'You are on your own. This is the best drinking game! If you are clever, win by remaining sober. Of course, you can play to lose if you want…'

Alex took pity on Oliver. 'The rules are few and simple,' she said. 'You must choose ten possible scenarios that could happen during the parade's broadcast and write them down. If any of them do happen, you have to drink. It doesn't even need to be alcoholic, she explained. 'As kids, we used to drink cocoa with about a thousand marshmallows.'

'Excellent,' he replied. He looked at each of the McInerney's in turn. There is only one small thing I might need to mention.'

The ladies gazed in his direction, not sure what he could possibly need to share.

'I may have never seen the parade?'

'May have?' asked Shane. 'Really, Oliver. Sometimes I think you arrived here from another planet! It's a parade! Balloons, crowds, marching bands, tedious commentators, and a smattering of minor celebrities! Guess!'

Blending Traditions

The game was over (Shane was declared the loser, or perhaps the winner as she had been forced to consume four cups of cocoa and a small mountain range of marshmallows.), dinner was eaten, and the little family lounged on the couch (and in Alex's case, the floor). Sharon looked to be mostly asleep, but she suddenly stirred, asked Oliver, 'What are some of your family traditions Oliver?'

Shane snuggled a little closer to her husband and took his hand. She was worried that such a family-oriented holiday might stir up some disquiet. She was relieved when he smiled and squeezed her hand in thanks. 'We used to spend most Thanksgivings with my grandparents. As well as lots of food, we would exchange notes with each other, expressing our gratitude for each other.

'That is a lovely tradition,' said Sharon. As soon as we can move, we should do that!'

'Anything else?' asked Alex.

'Competitive baking,' Oliver replied with a laugh. 'Grandmother would make gingerbread cookies cut out in the shapes of turkeys, leaves and pumpkins, and we would all decorate the cookies. The best decorator won.'

'Oliver,' Shane queried ' Did you ever win?'

Of course, why?'

'I've seen your crafting skills honey.'

Sharon jumped to her boy's defence. 'Shane Shannon McInerney O'Toole! That is not very nice!'

Oliver grinned, raised an eyebrow at Shane and then relented. 'Shane has seen my card-making skills,' he explained. 'It is not a strength area.'

'It's what's on the inside that counts,' Shane replied.

'Yes, to both traditions,' said Alex, 'Following an important McInerney tradition we do.'

Oliver looked at her questioningly.

'Napping, Oliver.' Explained Shane. 'It is time for the great post-feast snooze.'

With that, Shane put her head down in Oliver's lap and closed her eyes

'Comfortable?' he asked.

'Yep! Goodnight'

'Shhhh!' was the response from both Alex and Sharon.