Last week my mother (Shuggie to her grandbabies) was tucking my three-year-old into the bed. As they settled in the sheets, Sadie asked, “Want me to tewl yew da stowy of da beahs or da pigs?”
“Tell me about the bears!” Shuggie said.
Sadie began telling her version of The Three Bears. I’m sure there were lots of gasps and raised eyebrows as Sadie spun her tale. Then she got to the good part, “And den she ate dat baby beahs powidge and it was so good it was jest wight…”
Sadie pinched her thumb and forefinger together as if she was holding a spoon and gestured towards Shuggie’s mouth with it. Shuggie leaned forward and smacked her lips together, “Mmmm-MM! That is some GOOD porridge, Sadie!”
Sadie looked at my mother as if she lost her mind. “Dat’s not powidge Shuggie. Dat’s a boogah.”
This is the point in my mother’s story where I had to leap up and run to the bathroom to keep from peeing on myself. When I came back I said, “Did you actually EAT one of Sadie’s boogers?”
She raised her eyebrows, “No I was just pretending but I won’t even do that again!”
What warm and fuzzy memories did y’all make over Thanksgiving?