A series of mediocre situation comedy-like coincidences left us with a fully defrosted Turkey over a week before Thanksgiving, which prompted us to cook it up last Saturday for an early Thanksgiving feast. Cooper strolled into the kitchen and saw the uncooked turkey in the roasting pan, turned to me and said "Dad, did you catch that turkey?" Thinking it would be harmless, and to amuse Deanna, I said yes. What I was not prepared for was the ensuing barrage of questions from both twins. In answer to their series of questions as to my detailed method of procuring a turkey in the wild, I went with the previously mentioned knife and net method. They studied the turkey carcass and concluded that a puncture in the skin near the breast must have been where I stabbed it. In answer to their questions about how I attracted a turkey, I said I had done a turkey call. When they wanted to hear it, the best I could come up with on the fly was a lame "Here turkey, turkey, turkey." In answer to their questions as to how I had come out of the forest unscathed by either black bears or wolverines, I made a serious face and told them I was just lucky to get in, get the turkey, and escape before harm could come to me. I even told them about how I had defeathered it by dunking it in boiling water - God knows where I heard that one, but it came in handy.
Since then, of course, in predictable situation comedy-like fashion, my lies have built upon themselves to precarious levels. When we were going around the table saying what each person was thankful for, Cooper chimed in that he was grateful I had killed such a tasty turkey. This prompted a mini-chorus of "Yay Dad!" from the twins. The next day we were walking down a short trail in a forested area that, quite frankly, looked like somewhere a wild turkey might hang out. This prompted the whole family to break into cries of "Here turkey, turkey, turkey" and prompted Cooper to locate a sharp stick for me in the unlikely event that a turkey did actual wander up to us. With Thanksgiving now in the rear view mirror, I am optimistic that I can escape this predicament with a bit more aplomb than the hapless sit-com dads. At least until next fall rolls around and the twins recall my solemn promises that they can come with me on next year's turkey stabbing missions.
