My mother woke early this morning to put the turkey in the oven. The Boss padded down the stairs about three hours after that. For a half hour longer, The Partner and I remained in bed, where we heard mumbled utterings from downstairs amidst the aroma of coffee grinds and turkey drip. Without knowing what preceded it, we heard The Boss plaintively state "I'll have to ask my daddy about that."
The padding came up the stairs this time, and then The Boss was in our room. The Partner pulled the sheet over his head and pretended not to be there. It's their game. The Boss giggled when I asked her where her father was. She pulled the sheet off him and got straight to the business at hand.
"Daddy, nana said today is Thanksgiving, but I told her I had to ask you."
I stifled my laughter. I couldn't see The Partner's face, but it's safe to assume there was gloat there. "Yes," he assured her. "Today is Thanksgiving."
The Boss was satisfied. "Oh, okay." She turned on the tiny, round ball of her heel and started back toward nana. "Gotta dash."
The Partner turned toward me and we both lifted our heads from the pillow with raised eyebrows. His arched with superiority, mine with amusement. He spoke with only the slightest tinge of irony.
"It ain't Turkey day till I say it is."