Family time is the best time.
~Carmelo Anthony
“Mom, how soon do we eat?”
“Yeah, Mom, when do we eat?”
“John, Jerry,” my mother replied, “the turkey isn’t done yet.”
I persisted, asking, “How much longer ’til it’s done?”
“Well, let’s see,” my mother returned, stepping to the stove. “Boys, come here.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Mom bent over in front of the stove and flipped on the oven’s light. “Look inside at the turkey,” she said.
I knelt down, cupped my hands at my temples, and peered through the glass in the oven’s door. My younger brother did the same.
Then Mom asked, “Do you see that little, white, plastic thingy stuck in the turkey?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Well, when that thing pops up, the turkey is done.”
“Okay,” I replied. Then I removed my face from the glass, asking, “Mom, how does it know?”
Standing erect, Mom laughed. “I don’t know,” she answered. “It just does.”
Jerry and I looked at each other and shrugged.
Mom flipped off the oven light and added, “Now why don’t you two go play and come back later to check on the turkey.”
“Okay, Mom,” Jerry replied.
We scampered across the kitchen’s linoleum and disappeared into the family room. We didn’t even notice our dad get up from the dining-room table and stride into the kitchen after our departure. Dad never went into the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes later, my mother yelled, “John! Jerry!”
“Yeah, Mom?”
“It’s time to check the turkey again!”
Two young boys came tearing back into the kitchen.
As my dad leaned back against the refrigerator and watched, Mom bent over in front of the stove once more and flipped on the oven light. “Check the little, white, plastic thingy,” she instructed.
Again, I knelt down, cupped my hands at my temples, and looked through the oven door’s glass. Jerry followed suit. Then two boys fell back upon the linoleum with mouths wide open.
“Mom,” I began, “didn’t you see the little, white, plastic thingy pop up?”
“Yeah, Mom,” Jerry added. “You shrunk the turkey!”
Immediately, my dad busted up laughing.
Then Mom grabbed an oven mitt and opened the oven door. She reached inside and pulled out a Cornish game hen that Dad had brought home.
Then Dad removed a turkey that was perfectly done but hidden in a kitchen cabinet.
Later, we feasted on roast turkey, mashed potatoes, bread stuffing, fresh vegetables — and one Cornish game hen.
~John M. Scanlan
