It exceeded all my expectations.
He was dressed as a cute Indian, and we got to watch him put on a little show before digging in.
It was adorable.
Now, in all the dreams I have had about this day I never expected how hard I would have to work to make it happen.
Starting the night before . . .
I signed up to make sweet potato casserole for the event.
(Why I didn't just write my name next to fruit bowl we will never know).
I figured I could take my time after the kids were in bed and put together the whole thing to just bake in the morning.
Well, since I am so wonderful at planning ahead (not really) I totally overlooked the fact that my kids now basically sleep in the kitchen because we are in this apartment.
So . . . 8:30 pm rolls around and my potatoes still have an hour to bake in the oven.
I had to keep checking on them and simultaneously
yelling nicely asking my boys to lay down and go to sleep.
I finally got them all put together and in the fridge by 10 (not without waking Tim up to mash multiple times because did I mention the amount being made? . . . enough for 55 people - yes, 55.)
We got up in the morning and took George to school, then we had to run home to have enough time to put the casseroles in the oven and get them back to the school by feast time.
Once they were done I had to make 5 (yes, FIVE) trips down the stairs to the car to get everything in.
One for Ethan.
One for Lexi and her monstrous carseat.
One for casserole #1.
One for casserole #2.
And finally my last trip to get my diaper bag and lock the door.
To say I was perspiring a bit and had slightly burnt fingers would be the understatement of the year.
But it was all worth it to see George's face light up when he saw me there.
It truly never ceases to amaze me . . . the things we will do for our kids.
I would literally kill myself to be there for them.
George will probably forget this day within the week, but I won't ever forget watching him enjoy my presence and being so proud that his mom made the event.
It was a great day.
But truth be told . . . for the first grade Thanksgiving feast I will be first in line to sign up for the fruit bowl.