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I'd stopped doing the sweet potatoes with toasted marshmallows on top, only to get protests from the family. I said I wasn't going to keep making it. "You don't eat more than a few nibbles, and I end up throwing most of it out."
My daughter Amelia and son Alex dissolved into gales of laughter. "No, no, you've got to keep making it." Even Bruce was in on the joke.
And about half the time, I get distracted and remember the sweet potatoes only after the marshmallows have caught fire.
Amelia and Alex claim that, while they were growing up, that was the highlight of Thanksgiving: Would mom set the marshmallows on fire again this year? And, if I did start a fire, how exciting would it be? Would I scream? Would I set the kitchen towels on fire again? Would I carry the flaming dish to the sink while everyone rushed into the kitchen and yelled advice?
Every year, our Thanksgiving is a re-mix of traditions. Stephen adds Italian foods. Elise cooks fresh veggies with new sauces. Sushil added dhal last year. I'm not sure if a new tradition will pop up this year, but I hope it doesn't involve fire.
I've been playing Blokus, a board game with Lavinia and Octavia, while Atticus, who just turned five, keeps running the siren on his new fire truck almost non-stop. We've also got a 1,000-piece puzzle spread out, just underway. Maybe we'll go for some non-food related traditions this time, but either way, I'm celebrating.
Thanksgiving is a time to be grateful. As I look around this morning at my own kids and grandkids, making new traditions and hopefully not setting the house on fire, I'm deeply thankful to have the opportunity to fight for families in Massachusetts and all across the country -- and I'm thankful to have you with me for those fights.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.