I have never not been at my father's Thanksgiving table. Even when we were in high school and lived in New Jersey (Dad had moved to Florida), Deb & I would go to the Thanksgiving Day football game (we were both in Marching band), rush home and hop a flight to Florida.
Every year, no matter where we are living, my brothers and sisters, their husbands and kids come together. Because we ARE all together, and because Hanukkah is often only a week or two later, we've always exchanged our gifts Friday of Thanksgiving weekend. Since we have been going to the Bahamas the exchange has moved to pretty much right on arrival, as Dad & Sandi typically give the kids some toys to make their stay a bit more fun, and give the adults a little somethin' somethin', too. They want to make sure we have a good time and remove any worries. Their generosity is overwhelming.
Between the bubbles, the T-shirts (that said "Thanksgiving Bahamas 2006"),the light-up flicker toys and the other gifts, we all felt well and truly spoiled. And Dan? Well, he got several new toys, but he onlyhad eyes for his trucks. This set of two little plastic trucks. Let me tell you the child barely let go of them the entire weekend. Went to the restaurants. Went shopping. Went to the beach. Went in the water. And if you asked to hold one he'd shove them behind his back and pretend he had no idea where they were. Really, you can't teach that kind of ingenuity. We're so proud.
After the gift-giving we headed to one of the resort's restaurants for dinner. Catering to their mostly American clientele and their must-have-it-quickly preferences, you'd think they'd move a bit quicker, or at least assign more than one person to a seventeen member party. Not to be. Oh - and someone should speak to the Bahamian Ministry of Education. Every single waiter thinks that when you ask for four drinks three are just as good. On the other hand, they are wonderfully nice and pleasant, so while you sit starving after eating nothing for 11 hours, you're less likely to snap.
Daniel, of course, doesn't care that they're nice. And he has been snacking on raisins, pretzels and nutri-grain bars. He's tired of sitting and wants to get down and run around. So we let him down periodically and follow him as he walks (and sometimes runs) around the restaurant. He's not being disruptive;he's being cute andadorable and is getting smiles from many diners and servers.
At one point he took off and I went after him. Unfortunately there was some water sitting on the tile floor that I failed to notice. I, in my wooden-soled sandals, went flying and landed very ungracefully on the floor of the restaurant.
Ouch. Glitch number two.
To make a long story short I twisted my ankle, but didn't let it ruin my weekend. I was also surprised to discover that it's true that a sprain gets better with exercise. I truly believe all the walking I did made it heal much quicker.
Cool beans.
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