“Dad, is it wrong that I’m afraid to go to Aunt Alice’s for Thanksgiving?” Masen asked as he shoveled the snow off our driveway. We were battling the second major snowstorm of the season. Bah! It’s only NOVEMBER! Craptastic.
I snorted. “Why?”
“Have you had her cooking? My shoes taste better,” Masen deadpanned.
“Yes, I’ve had her cooking. Aunt Alice is not the best cook but your mom and Nana will be there to help her out, I think. Thanksgiving dinner will be edible. I promise you, bud.”
Masen sighed heavily. “Thank GOD. I don’t think my stomach could handle raw turkey. Yours either, old man.”
I nodded and pointed to the shovel he had in his hand. It was a few days from Thanksgiving and it had snowed again. I was so over winter and it hadn’t even officially started yet. We were working on clearing the driveway. My other children were otherwise occupied. Owen was staying after school to get some extra help for the district festival which was taking place the following weekend. He was up for concert master of the district orchestra. He wanted as much help as he could get before the competition. Kyra was at work. Mia was at cheerleading practice. Bella was out with Steve, waiting to pick up our children while I worked from home. Casey was in the apartment, going over some security protocols. Masen came home on the bus and we had been tackling the driveway ever since. Well, mainly Masen. My back was hurting.