Last night we celebrated Thanksgiving. No we are not American, but for the first time ever, it felt like a perfectly normal time to celebrate this holiday and celebrate the first flurry fall. My daughter helped my husband make the supper and she also took great care to decorate for the event. We moved the table into the living room and fancied things up. It was everything a fancy dinner should be: delicious, candlelit, eaten in pyjamas and full of conversations about all the other fancy meals we've had. Last Christmas we braved eating duck and the kids had great fun thinking up other options: sushi, geese (plural), bear and moose and cow.
I accompanied my mother-in-law to an appointment this week. On the paper, preparing her for the appointment, it invited her bring along something to read or a small craft. As soon as I heard about this invitation to bring a small craft into an otherwise austere waiting area, my mind started to do bouncing somersaults in many different directions. Googly eyes? Glue gun? Feathers? Play clay? Friendship braclets?
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