Happy Canadian Thanksgiving!

As you know, I usually don't pay much attention to my Canadian children.

It's not that I love them any less, it's just.... well, they're boring. And they rarely get into trouble, so it's not like I have to keep my eye on them every waking second. Not that I don't occasionally appreciate that. It's kind of like I'm one of those moms with 195 children at the grocery store, and they're all off in a million directions. Italy is crawling on the floor trying to look up ladies' skirts, America is pelting passersby with pistachios out of the bulk bins, Japan is building a robot out of bananas and a jar of mayonnaise to try to get one of those giant bouncy balls out of the net thing, and Belgium keeps falling down as it tries to run past the end of its monkey-backpack-child-leash.

But Canada? Canada is holding on to the side of the cart with one hand and casually reading the nutrition label on a box of bran flakes.

I mean, it has its benefits, don't get me wrong. But it also means that I never get to ground Canada or send it to its room without dinner or tell it that it can yell and scream and cry all it wants to but there's no way I'm letting it leave the house in that outfit, which as you all know is the greatest part of being a parent.

The power.... ohhhhh, the power....

But as I'm sure you remember (and if you don't, you can refresh your memory by clicking here - just be sure to repent later for your forgetfullness), Bandit is Canadian. And this is his first Canadian Thanksgiving since he came to Heaven.

Almost everybody feels a little Earth-sick on the first big holiday they spend in Heaven. So the Missus and I decided to make an all-out Canadian Thanksgiving for Bandit to make him feel better. The Missus is cooking a delicious turkey with all the fixings, Bandit and I are going to watch the Calgary/Montreal game later (I promised not to tell him who wins ahead of time), and then we're going to play a little hockey after dinner.

By the way, the house smells SOOO GOOOD right now. I think the smell of all that Canadian Thanksgiving food is really taking him back. And later, when we sit down to this deliciously aromatic feast and say, "No, Bandit, this is people food. It's not for you. Eat your kibble," it'll really feel like home.