Thanksgiving, Part II

So after a quiet morning at home, we headed to Dover for Thanksgiving dinner. It was a packed house and, consequently, not so quiet.

Andres fell asleep in the car on the way over, so Natalia stayed with him for a bit while Celia and I headed inside to a chorus of hellos. If Celia was overwhelmed by the attention she didn't show it--and when her brother came inside a few minutes later, he held it together well too. A very auspicious start to the afternoon.

Thinking about it now, it had been a long time since most of my relatives had seen the kids--we don't tend to assemble as an extended family too often, and since we were in NJ last Thanksgiving, it may have been over a year between visits for some people. It's getting harder to remember these things. I know (do I?) that last Christmas was the last time we had seen my grandmother; at that point, Celia's hair was a lot shorter and she wasn't talking at all. What a difference a year makes. And now I'm wondering whether my uncle had ever met Celia before--surely he had, at some point? But when? She's only 2...could he have last seen her two Thanksgivings ago, when she was only weeks old? It seems unfathomable.

The kids found peace among the many toys available to them, and Andres eventually worked up an appetite playing soccer outside. Celia, always the interested spectator, enjoyed watching him through the window.

Then dinner--turkey, salads, potatoes, risotto, cornbread, jello, and on and on and on. It was a good meal.

Gammy and Peter. Seldom photographed, never photographed together.

Cheers!

We needed a break before dessert--so playtime and conversation followed. Sarah and Mike were kind enough to keep an eye on Andres and Celia for a bit and, excepting a minor run-in between Celia and the piano bench, everything seemed to go ok.

Mike checks the structural integrity of the plastic building.

La la la la, la la la la, Celia's song...

Dessert was great--a panoply of pies, including pumpkin, cherry, and apple. Natalia worked hard on hers so I'll highlight it here: it was a double-crust job, with miniature dough leaves resting atop the surface. It seemed a shame to actually eat the thing because it looked so nice; but then again, an uneaten pie is a miserable pie, and its demise was met with many compliments. Certainly "very tasty," as Andres would say.

Coffee followed, as did more pie for some of us. And as such an assemblage of Minichiellos had not happened in a long time, a request went up for a formal photograph or two...met with varying levels of resistance by the subjects themselves.

For better or worse, you are all related.