A's Turkey House

A is excited about many things, some of which puzzle me. For example, the moon. If she's in the car at night, we hear, "Where's the moon, Mommy? Where's the moon, Daddy?" what seems like a million times. And I wonder how she even knows about the moon. I know I haven't told her.

Well, I have our two neighbors with giant, illuminated, inflatable turkeys to thank for her intrigue with Ben Franklin's favorite bird. The first night she saw them, our entire dinner was filled with turkey (when she says it, it sounds like kee-kee) talk. Specifically her questions centered around when we would go to see them next. And all I could think was 'Who invented those stupid inflatables, anyway?' I'm not a fan.

Because of her love for turkeys, my mom started singing "Down by the turkey house . . ." to A, and A LOVED it. Thanksgiving morning A insisted on holding a wooden turkey I had on the table, which she promptly put into a clothes basket and announced, "Turkey (kee-kee) house, Mommy." I guess that turkey needed a home.