Last Thanksgiving, my dad threw away the wishbone. You have no idea the horror, agitation and pain this caused. For TLo and The Big One, at any rate. For the next 365 days, they made sure to remind us all that they must have the wishbone this year. Or else.
My mother (being a mom and therefor a bit more on top of it about these things), duly saved the wishbone from her (flippin’ huge) turkey. When we got to my parents’ house on Thursday afternoon, there it sat on it’s own platter like a temple icon, waiting for TLo and The Big One’s grubby little paws.
After 7 hours of family-and-friends goodness (and in The Big One’s case, a dinner made up exclusively of 8 chocolate chip cookies and 5 buttered rolls), we headed home with two very tired little girls in tow. As we walked from the garage to the house, TLo began a strange and curious series of contortions in the security light. Was she having a sugar-induced seizure? Had the 6 straight hours of TV she watched actually melted her brain, just like I kept telling her it would?
Not exactly. When questioned, she stopped her body-bending and all was made clear. She was looking at her shadow.
“Mom! Grandma said if you wish on the wishbone, your wish will come true. She said it.”
“I’m looking to see if my fairy wings have started to grow yet!”
Oh dear. Grandma is going to have a lot to answer for.