I received a funny e-mail recently from my 18-year-old daughter who is an exchange student in Belgium.  In it she said she and another exchange student were going to cook Thanksgiving dinner for their families.

I hoo-rahed.

“Why is that so funny!?” you must be thinking.  Well, up to now the most complicated thing she has ever cooked is macaroni and cheese out of a box.

She asked me to send her recipes.  Lots and lots of recipes.  I translated them into teenage language and sent them.

The first phone call came days later.  “So how do you, like, cook a turkey?” she asked.  I told her how I did it.  She asked how long it should cook.  I told her if it was going to be served at noon, she would need to get up in the middle of the night to put it in the oven.

“No, we’re going to eat at, like, 8 o’clock at night,” she explained.  “I need to know if I can, like, put it in the oven before I go to school, like, at 7:00 a.m.”

The poor bird was going to be toast.  I suggested she skip school.

Then I suggested she make some of the stuff ahead of time and freeze it.  It was nearly impossible, I explained, to get it all done in one day.

There was a long pause.

“Hello?”  I said.

“Yeah … I, um, I knew that,” she answered slowly.  She obviously had been planning to throw this thing together between school and dinnertime. 

The next call came two days ago.

Panicked, she pleaded, “Mom!  Can you do me a BIG favor?!”

“Sure,” I answered.  Anything for my baby.

“Send me some measuring cups and spoons.  Everything here is metric and I can’t figure out how much of anything to put anywhere!”

I sent them.  I hope she gets them in time.  I included a little thingie you stick in the turkey and it pops up when it’s done.  I e-mailed her a chart showing baking times per pound, but of course in was in degrees Fahrenheit and they use centigrade, and they weigh turkeys in kilograms.  It will be a miracle if the turkey comes out.  Actually, it will be amazing if anything comes out.

But I’m proud of her for even attempting to pull off Thanksgiving at her age.  I really am.  But, boy, I sure wish I could be a fly on the wall to see how it turns out.

And I wonder who’s gonna wash all those dishes …