Happy Thanksgiving To You

Thanksgiving was had at a relative’s house (Thanks Sue!), so I did not get to indulge in best of Thanksgiving traditions - leftovers. Also there no Green Giant corn niblets in butter sauce, which is just fucking nuts. And San Francisco, it is called a Rutabaga. I am Irish and if I spend another god forsaken Thanksgiving without sweet creamy stick of butter in it amazement that is mashed yellow turnips, I might have a breakdown. On Friday morning, in a mission for leftovers, I purchased a nineteen pound butterball turkey for half price. On Saturday, the beast was cooked and my somewhat immediate family dined upon the carcass. Maggie who never eats a ton of anything was shoving corn niblets in butter sauce and turkey down her gullet like a Nathan’s Hot Dog contestant. A very impressive display of gluttony for a girl who maybe eats every three days. Later that evening the kids were bathed and dressed for bed. The usual fall asleep in 20 seconds at 6:30 p.m. Maggie McCall did not. Instead she cried, then cried some more, then had a hissy fit, then decided just to shriek. My mind, incapable of dealing with her wails, did the only thing it could. It sent the appropriate message along synapses to drink repeated shots of whiskey. Finally at 8:30 p.m., after two hours of delirium inducing screeching, I took her in our room where she promptly fell asleep and I promptly passed out. The next morning, she seemed better. We figured she was either over stimulated, teething or possessed by the devil (my vote). Later that morning, John took her to be changed. Wherein I heard, “Cass, I think there is something up Maggie’s nose.” “WHAT?”. “I think there is something up her nose.” “Let me see.” As I tilted her head back to peer into her nostrils, there was something. “What the hell is that?” “I don’t know.” “Get the tweezers.” John holding her hands and me armed with the tweezers, we removed one, two, three, four, five, six, SEVEN pieces of turkey. Out of her nose. She had not eaten like a champ, but instead put various sized turkey pieces up her nose. And all that crying the night before was probably related to the fact that 2 pounds of that 19 pound bird were up her left nostril. And this, my friends, is my daughter: a person who puts bits of food up her nose for fun. Help me.