Perfectly Imperfect

Our Thanksgiving was perfect. Mr. Tom Turkey was a perfectly golden brown, finished right on time. The casserole and potatoes came out of the oven perfectly warmed and ready to eat. And, the table was a picture of perfection--fine china; fancy serving bowls; and cloth napkins folded "just so." Ryan was scrubbed clean; each hair falling perfectly in place; impeccable table manners.

NOT.

For those of you not in Oklahoma on Thanksgiving day, it was cold. Not a little nippy. Cold in the way only Oklahoma winds can create. So, Mr. Tom Turkey took about 14 hours to cook. The side dishes sat warming (and drying) in the oven. The rolls didn't rise. And, at the 11th hour, I realized that I do have lovely wedding china in shades of light turquoise and silver. My serving pieces, however, are yellow (a bright, happy, sunny yellow, but yellow nonetheless).

Ryan James missed his nap time and overslept. He missed the blessing and the dinner. He did, however, have his turkey (rolled in a tortilla because everything is better when rolled in a tortilla). Standing at the center island, he made his late evening feast:

The meal just can't top his wardrobe choice.  My child has sweaters and jackets. He has a plaid sport coat and dozens of collared shirts.  His choice was red, furry, and warm. He picked them out himself. They are his Elmo pants:

And so, he knelt at the kitchen alter, ate his Thanksgiving tortilla, and we all gave thanks for the smiles he brings.  We gave thanks for the food on our table in the sunny yellow bowls. We gave thanks for our family and our friends. And we gave thanks for a well-rested toddler:

...who looks quite splendid in his Thanksgiving best (on a Friday afternoon). And so, I am thankful for my perfectly imperfect day.