Wednesday and Thursday night we piled into one cabin at Aspen Grove for some serious cousin time. We played games, ate treats and laughed into the wee hours, and I was reminded how much I enjoy my cousins. Visiting each other every four years is not nearly enough.
We had not yet been blessed with snow at our house (yes, I said blessed. I adore snow) which made the snow up there still a novelty.
The Loop was ours for a moment. Untouched from other humans.
We set up Thanksgiving at my parent's cultural hall in their church.
The location gave tons of space for the kids to run around, easy clean up and we pulled in the couches for comfier seating.
With cousin Alex towed behind.
Brand new Baby Molly.
She was the most popular person at the reunion.
She was passed around and eagerly snuggled by anyone who could scramble for a turn.
And she barely made a peep the whole weekend.
The actual meal was a whirlwind.
That ended with the traditional and obligatory family photo.
The center of the show.
We had everyone there at one point during the weekend.
Thanksgiving is fine and all but my most anticipated event is post-dinner games.
This is the one time of year that we bust out Bunco.
It was great. Except when they decided to end the game when I had finally made it to the winner's table.
I think it was rigged.
Grandma stole the show by performing "Skeeters," a bedtime song that she used to sing to the grandkids.
Its origins are unknown to me, so I will attribute them to Grandma.
When in doubt, attribute to Grandma.
Moo, Stacie and Victoria.
Friday morning we moseyed about the cabin until we realized we had to book it down the canyon in order to make it to Thanksgiving Part Deux.
The Bensons kindly do T-giving dinner on the Friday after to allow each kid spend time with their out-laws. And so we have no excuse not to make it to both dinners. (Just kidding.)
Honestly, we underestimated our time and were unfashionably late.
In my defense, cooking 6 pounds of cooked carrots took a bit longer than expected.
Dinner round two was delicious as expected.
But after two days of non-stop eating I hit my brink.
My limit. I could eat no more.
Which meant no pie.
Those whose waistbands were not bursting at the seams played Twister (Jacob, Jenessa and the kids were the only ones who dared) followed by the ever popular Pit.
It was, in my humble opinion, one of the better Thanksgivings.