In preparation, we read bunches of books about the Pilgrims and Indians and the Mayflower. One morning when the kids woke up I informed them that we were headed off on a long journey, and that they needed to pack -- but they could only pack the same things the Pilgrims packed, which were a Bible, one set of clothes, tools, cooking implements, firearms, and one toy.
The kids took it farther than I thought they would. They combed through their dress-up boxes for suitable outfits. Vincent found a frilly white shirt, and Catherine pulled out a green dress from Gaga that looked perfect for a good little Pilgrim girl. To this she added her colonial bonnet. Dommie stripped off his clothes and ran around naked.
So we made our own hard tack. Flour, water and salt. Lots of salt. I turned the kids loose with the ingredients and let them roll out their hard tack and bake it. It was surprisingly decent and, not so surprisingly, horrendously messy. But by the fourth day that stuff was HARD. Like, crack-a-tooth hard. Poor Pilgrims.
But the most important thing we did was to remember the true meaning of the Thanksgiving spirit: Being grateful for all that we have, and remembering that not everyone has these same blessings. So on a sunny Saturday afternoon we went to our church and decorated tons of boxes to deliver to families without the means to have a big Thanksgiving dinner, and then the kids filled them with food. But I had to agree with Vincent when he said, with a slight shudder, that he was glad there was no hard tack in those boxes.
No comments:
Post a Comment