This post is not for you, okay?

It's not that I'm against you reading it, I just don't think you're going to want to.  How do I know?  Because it's about Thanksgiving, and you're, like, so over Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving is so last week.  I know this.  But the Husband and I went to ATLANTIC CITY, baby, and I didn't have time to post this earlier.  And I can't just not post it, because some day my aging brain is going to ask, "Hey, what year did I drop the eggs?"  And I can just pull this up and say, "2012 - now that was a bad year for the eggs."

So here it is, the post you haven't been waiting for:  The Thanksgiving Highlight Post.  Here's what I might want to remember someday, accompanied by only some of the pictures I wanted to include (Blogger wouldn't let me include the rest or now sub out the food pictures for people pictures--sonofaB!  Whatev.):

Patrick, Cheryl, Mark, and Chas meet their new niece and nephew for the first time and carry them around.  A lot.  (Having my own hands free to do whatever?  Priceless.) 

Unsolicited, 6-year-old Nicholas informs me that I make the best cookies in the world.  “HA!!!!” I yell to my sisters-in-law, who both claim to make The Best Cookies in the World.  This is the best Thanksgiving ever.

That Nicholas is an angel.

Cheryl makes Conor laugh by singing him children's songs.  Chas makes Conor laugh by suggesting that she'll take him to see dancing girls.  Samantha, on the other hand, is not terribly amused by the suggestion of untoward behavior, but smiles politely because that's how she was raised.

Roar accompanied Uncle Patrick, Aunt Cheryl, and Mina on a trip to DC.  It was so windy that Aunt Cheryl worried aloud that Mina might literally get blown away.  Roar scoops up his cousin, and carries her the rest of the time.  Awww.

Zachary, beaming, sits on the couch with Mina and Nicholas, and yells to me, “I’m playing with my cousins!”  Every chance he gets, he tells me that he's doing something with "his cousins."  Having them around is so novel and so much fun for him.  

I royally f-up in the cooking of hard-boiled eggs:  shells will not come off without pulling off a giant chunk of egg white.  Chas spends an hour peeling off the shells, and once she’s done, I drop the eggs on the floor.  I yell at the dog and save them from being eaten.  (He’s hurt, but I make it up to him later by dropping a half a block of cheese on the floor.)  The eggs are washed and salvaged, but nothing can fix that kind of ugly.

Jack is not happy about being told to look happy for pictures.  He gets over it.

The Husband is not happy that the picture of “The White Team” doesn’t contain all members of The White Team and refuses to smile for pictures.  I yell at him.  He yells back.  We get over it.

ScowlyPants, Cheryl, Roar, Megan, Chas

Parti and Cheryl take the kids to the park, leaving the house quiet, and the kitchen empty for some time.  Awe-some.

Standing a safe distance away, we watch with cameras and video cameras at the ready for the turkey to explode or otherwise create a scene that will net us a significant sum of money on America’s Funniest Home videos.  To our dismay, the turkey cooperates. 

Parta reluctantly makes a ceremonial first cut of the turkey, but it was done with great flair.

Nicholas (aka The Informer) tells the Husband, “Your son is downloading how to buy me a Justin Beeber Barbie.  You better do something about it.”

Zachary wants to go outside to play, but his little cousins are busy playing "with technology."  So cousin Megan drops what she's doing and volunteers to take him outside.  She plays with him on his slide, making my son so very happy.  Awww.

Uncle Patrick rotisseries a chicken on the grill.  It tries to escape and has to be tied down.

Mark demands marshmallows in his yams.  I comply, but require him to buy the marshmallows.  He gets the giant kind, and I declare that he has ruined Thanksgiving.

I walked outside to find all of the children, including the two teenagers, drawing on our driveway with sidewalk chalk.

Parti, Parta, Zachary, Mina, Cheryl, Roar, and I play a game of Apples to Apples.  Even though Zachary is playing on his own team, he comes in second place.

The kids spend a good couple of hours in the back yard setting up a series of games for the adults to play.  Mom gets angry that we do not indulge the kids by playing before dinner; Mark gets mad at mom for getting mad.  They get over it.

The morning after Thanksgiving, 6-year old Mina tells me how tired she was the night before.  I suggest that it’s because she ran around a lot the day before and because she ate turkey.  Did she know that turkey could make you tired, I ask.  “Yes,” she says.  “It’s the tryptophan.”