Thea spent Thanksgiving in the city instead of coming home. My little girl is growing up. Her decision was perhaps made for her -- two shifts at work, an essay due, and her roommate coming home with a turkey and a stuffing recipe from his mom. Is it ok if we call for help with the turkey? she asked, somewhat plaintively. Of course, I replied in my deepest Daddy knows voice.
I got a call at five on Sunday afternoon. So, how's the turkey coming? I asked.
I'm about to start it, she said.
Thea has been known to put things off, so I was not surprised. Planning a midnight supper? I asked.
What do you mean, Daddy? For I have been known to make jokes.
Turkeys take a long time to cook, I said.
Depends on how big it is, I said.
A pause. The tag says 4-8 kilos, she told me.
That's a bit vague, I said. Try to find a specific number on the tag.
There was a loud thud, and scramble on her end of the line.
Sorry Daddy. I dropped the turkey, and it skidded all the way across the kitchen floor.
She laughed heartily. I love hearing my children laugh.
Skidded, eh? I said. Then a thought struck me. Thea, is the turkey frozen?
Well, of course. I don't want to get salmonella.
My turn to pause now. The bird would take a day to thaw and somewhere between three and six hours to cook. Thea, honey, what else do you have to eat in the house? Apart from turkey stuff.
What are you saying, Daddy? I've got some cheese and crackers. Some cereal. Peanut butter. You know the kind of thing.
Indeed I do. Ah, student living. Happy Thanksgiving, honey, I said.