Dear Children,

Even when you get up too early and sing all the time I can see, intellectually, that it’s a good thing. Much as I might want to sleep longer and have the world be quiet, I can’t help but think that in the long run, being early, cheerful risers will endear you to at least 50% of the population.

And the other 50% now has advance warning and can avoid you.

(who would want to avoid that squishy adorable baby? HMMMMM?)

I am thankful for you kids. Even when I feel like a shell of a person, you have the ability to huddle up in the shell with me and help me feel less hollow.

(Fresco — self portrait with flash)

And you might not know it, but you are thankful for each other. Trust me.

(Conversation that followed this picture:
Fresco: Trombone, if I’m asleep tonight and I get too uncomfortable, I’m going to come sleep with you!
Trombone: Uh, no you’re not.
Fresco: Yes I am! You have a comfortable bed!
Trombone: So do you. Don’t come in my bed when I’m sleeping. Just don’t.)

Fresco, today you were delighted to learn that it’s Thanksgiving. HAPPY THANKSGIVING! you hollered. I have always considered Thanksgiving a nicely positioned long weekend and also a good excuse to make stuffing, whether or not there is turkey, but your good humour, like your many viruses, is infectious.

Trombone, at school this week you made a cornucopia. I said, a what? You said, a horn of plenty, mom. You coloured the vegetables and glued them to the horn and were absolutely delighted with yourself. I am absolutely delighted with you.

You are both so smart and weird and funny and sweet and healthy and happy and I love you. And I would never leave you by the side of the road for someone to pick up. Never.

(your father took this picture. I was cleaning the house or something something womanly arts.)

Happy Thanksgiving, Canada!

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