I am still so full, I can hardly waddle around the house.

As a kid, I always dreaded holiday meals.  I didn’t like the chunks of giblets in the gravy … I never understood why they would ruin perfectly good gravy with liver and stuff.  And sweet potatoes … it was the only time of the year that my mom served them, and well, kids only like stuff they’re used to.  All us kids thought sweet potatoes were gross.

My, how things change.  The adults’ plates were piled high, and several went back for seconds.  Sweet potatoes are awesome.  But I noticed that the kids only had a few things on their plates.  Definitely no sweet potatoes.

A friend forwarded this Thanksgiving Poem to me and I’d like to share it with you (with a few of my own minor modifications).  The author is not given, so whoever wrote this … thanks for a good laugh.

A THANKSGIVING POEM

T’was the night of Thanksgiving, but I just couldn’t sleep.

I tried counting backwards, I tried counting sheep.

The leftovers beckoned, the dark meat and white …

But I fought the temptation with all of my might.

Tossing and turning with anticipation,

The thought of a snack became infatuation.

So I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door,

And gazed at the fridge, full of goodies galore.

Gobbled up turkey, beans and tomatoes,

pumpkin pie with whipped cream, and of course, sweet potatoes.

I felt myself swelling, so plump and so round.

‘Til all of a sudden, I rose off the ground.

I crashed through the ceiling, floating into the sky,

With a mouthful of pudding, and a handful of pie.

But I managed to yell as I soared past the trees …

Happy eating to all! Pass the cranberries, please!

Hope your stuffing was tasty. Hope your turkey was plump.

Hope your potatoes ‘n gravy had nary a lump.

Hope your yams were delicious and your pies took the prize.

And here’s wishing your Thanksgiving stays off of your thighs.