Family Time

It's always dangerous to write about people who are going to read your blog, but how could I not comment on my family's trip up to see us for Thanksgiving. As always, Tweeds was a great sport, and she, without complaint, slept on an Aerobed on the nursery floor as my parents got the guest room (at what point does the room switch from a nursery to a bedroom? Is it totally literal--when the Doodlebug switches to a bed? Or can it be a bedroom before that?). My father was his usual self: high maintenance in denial (he thinks he's easy going) with lots of wit. And then there was my mom. I'd like to quote all family members equally, but it's so hard when my mom is visiting. My mom is the Gracie Allen of our family and everyone else is her straight man. I mean what else can you say about woman who can give you the exact vintage of a Diet Coke (and she can detect the subtle variation in a Diet Coke that's past its prime, a distinction no mere mortal palette could tell). A woman who says, "Mmm, I'd love a Dunkin Donut to go with my Diet Coke." (Blech!) A woman who, while playing a family game of Trivial Pursuit, answers "Teddy Roosevelt" because she forgot she was playing with the '60s version. However, I can't mention any of these things because then my mom might think I was picking on her. So let's just say it was quiet, uneventful trip. No need to disrupt the family peace.