Over the river, and through the wood,
to Grandfather’s
house we go;
the horse knows the
way
to carry the sleigh
through the white and drifted snow.
Over the river, and through the wood,
to Grandfather’s house away!
We would not stop
for doll or top,
for ’tis Thanksgiving Day.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It's all warm feelings and loving family with a fantastic meal, to boot. Our tradition is immediate family getting together and spending the day together . . . chatting, playing games, drinking , nibbling and drooling over the smell of the cooking turkey. My brother-in-law does most of the cooking and the holiday wouldn't be complete without him having a spastic over-reaction to some little ol' thing.
Over the river, and through the wood—
oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes
and bites the nose,
as over the ground we go.
Over the river, and through the wood,
with a clear blue winter sky.
The dogs do bark
and the children hark,
as we go jingling by.
The dining table is always set with the nicest linens, dishes, cutlery and glassware . . . everything sparkles and looks lovely. When the food is almost ready everyone is pretty much famished and everybody sneaks into the kitchen to dip their fingers in the mashed potatoes or pinch off a piece of the turkey which is invitingly settling on the counter top.
Over the river, and through the wood,
to have a first-rate play.
Hear the bells ring,
“Ting a ling ding!”
Hurray for Thanskgiving Day!
Over the river, and through the wood—
no matter for winds that blow;
or if we get
the sleigh upset
into a bank of snow.
The whole day climaxes with the turkey being set onto the table . . . five minutes later the carnage is complete, everyone is stuffed and then, of course, there's a huge mess to clean up . . . and pie. With a shoe horn and a little lubrication you might be able to knock off a piece.
Over the river, and through the wood,
to see little John and Ann;
we will kiss them all,
and play snowball
and stay as long as we can.
Over the river, and through the wood,
trot fast my dapple gray!
Spring over the ground
like a hunting-hound!
For ’tis Thanksgiving Day.
Thanksgiving, of course, is about taking the time to reflect on the things were are thankful for. I am thankful for a family that is doing well in this god-awful economy . . . we all have jobs, have plenty to eat and we have our health. I am thankful to be able to come home every day to a safe, warm home . . . especially after particularly stressful work days. I am thankful for a son who is thriving and, even though he's at the angsty teenage stage, still gives his mom loves and hugs and snuggles. I am thankful for my fuzzy companion, Fuzzums, who never fails to be sweet, cuddly and evil all at the same time. I am especially thankful for my husband who is . . . despite his poopheadedness . . . is kind, respectful and - above all - very loving.
Over the river, and through the wood
and straight through the barnyard gate.
We seem to go
extremely slow—
it is so hard to wait!
Over the river, and through the wood—
old Jowler hears our bells;
he shakes his paw
with a loud bow-wow,
and thus the news he tells.
I am thankful for many other things, but those are the most important.
My best wishes to everyone for a happy, gluttonous holiday. Be safe and be grateful for all the good things in your life. Remember no matter how bad things are . . . they can always be worse.
Over the river, and through the wood—
when Grandmother sees us come,
she will say, “O, dear,
the children are here,
bring pie for everyone.”
Over the river, and through the wood—
now Grandmother’s cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun!
Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!
As a parent, I am disappointed in the quality of public education, in general. And, from the little bit of experience I have with the private school system, I'm not particularly impressed by that either. 
So, when my hubby told me a tale from his elementary school days, I was shocked. My husband is like Wile-E-Coyote-super-genius smart. By the time he was in the fourth grade he had already devoured every book in the children's section of the library and had moved on to the adult section. Needless to say, he was pretty well read for a nine year old. 
So, when his teacher gave here students a test requiring her students to define a list of words you think it would be a piece of cake for him. And, it was . . . sort of. One of the words on the list was 'minute'. He defined it as the adjective meaning 'extremely small'. He was very upset when he got his corrected test back and saw that she had marked it wrong. Besides being precocious, he was also out-spoken. He brought the test up to his teacher and asked why he got it wrong. She said that she didn't give him the right definition. He argued his point but she said the the definition she was looking for was the noun meaning 'A period of time equal to sixty seconds or a sixtieth of an hour'. And the reason he got it wrong . . . because she hadn't taught them the other definition and he shouldn't have known it. 
