Thursday, November 25, 2004

Fisher-Price Thanksgiving

I sat next to a precocious seven year old girl named Sophia on the airplane home to Texas.
We spent the two and a half hours looking at my Vogue magazine and making deliberations about the fashions as if we were top executives choosing our Fall lines.
We drove straight to my step-sister’s house to spend Thanksgiving. Luby’s provided a tasty meal of moist turkey and stuffing. After the meal, my Dad’s wife Beatriz and her daughter Beti and I washed dishes and gabbed about her Mexican family and all the drama that could be ripe for a telenovella. EJ, Beti’s three year-old son wanted all of us to play instruments, so he walked up to each of us and assigned instruments for us to play. The way he communicated, it made all of us really aware of his tendency toward leading. My Dad at one point called him the "little dictator."
So picture this: me playing plastic maracas, EJ’s grandma playing a slapstick instrument, EJ on the plastic drum and my Dad playing piano. Such a lovely rendition of the Thanksgiving experience.


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