Well you guessed it , tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Me being A sound mother with A piece of mind. I’m already thinking how it will go. Starting at 5:00 A.M. My loving husband will raise up out of bed. Downing ever bit of the word Thanksgiving. He will get up. Drink A cup of coffee, and get his good knife out, and sharpen it. Then go out side to our turkey. (Who our little girl Tara, calls Gobbles, because he gobbles all the time.) My husband brought the turkey home to raise for Thanksgiving. Tara knew this, but when she smells turkey on the oven early, and asks what day is it. All rivers will over flow from the run off from her tears.

My husband says its time she understands that’s the way things are. Men seam to not have A heart sometimes, but if they couldn’t do it. I guess there wouldn’t be any meat on the table. I can’t have everyone mad at each other, after I spend all day cooking, and cleaning. What would I be grateful for, the bad mood I would be in. What could be worse? Dead maybe, no because there is heaven. So what do I do. I got it. I could go to the store, buy another turkey, and hide it. I could get up at 3:00 A.M., and take the old feather pillow out to the shed, and throw some turkey feathers all around the ground.

Put the rest in A barrel, and hide them. Then I could get some left over meat out of the refrigerator, and put it on the ground, and set it on fire. Claim I wanted to get rid of the left over parts before Tara got up, spare her feelings. Run Gobbles up the road to my brothers, and put him in with the other turkeys. At least my husband wouldn’t know.

No, better not, my husband would be ticked if he found out we raised it for nothing, and gave it away. Besides it seams like A lot of work. I know. Tara come here, Do you know what tomorrow is? No mommy. Thanksgiving. That did it. Tears started to build in her eyes. No lesion, I have a ideal.

What, daddy says Gobbles is are Thanksgiving dinner. I watched A tear run down her cheek, as she began to pout. Don’t tell daddy and we can take Gobbles to uncle Sam’s, and bring back one that looks like Gobbles. We could exchange them. We would be eating A plain turkey, and not your friend. Uncle Sam can sell Gobbles to A good friend. Tara smiled really big, and began jumping up, and down clapping, and put her hands over her mouth, and snickered. We wouldn’t tell daddy until gobbles gets A new good home, right mommy.

Yea sweetie, now let me call uncle Sam, and get him to exchange them. Lets do it before daddy gets home from work. Now go play. So off she went. I made the call and explained it to Sam. Don’t tell Tara any thing but you found A good home for Gobbles. Take Gobbles in your truck, down the road, let Tara see you leave. Then wait enough time for you to go get another turkey, and come back. When he came back Tara said, he picked A good one, because it looks just like Gobbles.

Things A mom does to keep peace in the family. They can’t ever thank me latter for what I do, because they don’t have a clue. I like it that way. Have A peaceful Thanksgiving, I know I will.