We spent Thanksgiving week at a rented beach house just outside of Charleston, South Carolina.
The beach house turkey tradition began three years ago when it started to be too much for my grandparents to handle the whole family.
This was our first Thanksgiving without either of them and that was hard.
Overall it went well.
Uh... unless you count the night where I got into a screaming match with my sister-in-law (in front of everyone) over whether or not it was right and just to put a single, beloved jumbo Lego in time out.
[Oh, hear the joyous holiday thunder of different parenting styles colliding!]
Weeeeeeeee! The fun.
The weather was beautiful and the house was lovely, but...
The Rooster, who usually considers Grandma Seattle the most special person, was a complete stinker towards her for the entire week.
I asked her why she was being such a grumpus and The Rooster said,
"Well, there was... there was this... INSTANCE... of AHHHHHHH!!!!"
She shook her two-year old fists in frustration.
Oh, the dreaded Instance of AHHH.
We had two cars at the beach because the kids, Grandma Seattle and I left a few days ahead of K.
Driving out of Charleston we passed a paper mill.
"Mommy, you made a bad fart smell!" The Mayor accused.
"Mayor! That is a stinky paper mill! Mommy's farts don't smell that bad!!"
Just then my cell phone rang.
It was K calling from the other car.
"Was that YOU?" he laughed.
Last night as the kids were running in circles and screaming, Grandma Seattle looked at me and nearly burst into song,
"I get to go home tomorrow! I get to go home tomorrow! La la la!"
I beat her with The Rooster's baby doll.
Putting the FUN in disfunction at The House of Joy.