We kicked off the weekend of Thanksgiving with a card from Abby and Papi.
Genevieve loves to get mail!
I took Genevieve to the Children's Museum and we saw the planetarium program for toddlers featuring Elmo and Big Bird.
We also stopped for a cupcake treat.
That plate is misleading.
Although she is the height of an average 3 year old, she is still very much only 2.
Our Thanksgiving plans dramatically changed on Wednesday. We were scheduled to go to my parents' house with all of my siblings, aunt, uncle and cousins.
By Wednesday morning, G had been complaining for about 2 days about her bottom hurting.
I called her pediatrician and they told me to bring her in on Wednesday afternoon. We packed the car and were ready to leave town right after her appointment.
And boom!
Plans changed.
He took one look at that tush and diagnosed her with perianal streptococcus.
He actually ran a test too.
What?
She had what is commonly known as strep butt.
Except it's not common.
She also had strep throat.
What a mess.
It is all highly contagious, so we could not go see my family on Wednesday evening.
Plans were cancelled and Thanksgiving was rescheduled for Friday after 24 hours on antibiotics.
So sad.
We put up our tree.
This picture shows how strong my genes are.
Trinity staged a sit in at Cracker Barrel. We called for carry out with our last minute change and were dismayed to learn that we needed to order 24 hours in advance.
That's kind of an issue when your toddler was not diagnosed with strep butt on that timeline.
His plan was to get a table and then order it all to go in protest, possibly mentioning that his wife was at home weeping and so was his daughter's heiney.
It didn't come to that, thank the lord.
He was able to order carry out at the counter and we enjoyed our buttermilk biscuits in the comfort of our own strep infested home.
On Friday we got home to YaYa and Bob's.
YaYa took photos for her card, featuring lots of faux fur.
The menfolk cooked.
I jest.
Robby helped.
Chip and Trinity aren't much help in the kitchen.
Unless Bob slips on grease and nearly breaks a leg and drops the turkey.
That happened.
It was touch and go for a few seconds.
Thankfully both the bird and Bob were okay.
Uncle Kent, Aunt Cindi, and Scott arrived bearing gifts and taco dip.
G was in a food coma.
Neighbor Ron walked across the street to take our annual picture.
This photographic treachery has finally convinced me that next year I will put on pants that zip and actually shower.
I look like a hobo.
We ended Friday at Hobby Lobby where Bob added another Minnie to our lives.
Don't worry, that heinous decor didn't make it home.
She got another plush Minnie for bedtime.
We are so grateful for our family and bubblegum flavored amoxicillin.
