A little over fifteen years ago, I sneaked into Diane Harris’ kindergarten at William Fox Elementary.  I loved watching her teach. It was the day before the Thanksgiving Break.  Her students showed me their Turkey paintings and the bathtub full of Thanksgiving books. Diane asked if I would like to tell a story.  I settled myself in her rocking chair and told her children about the baby born on the Mayflower. He was named Oceanus because he had eyes as blue as the Ocean.

The Pilgrims had a hard year and would not have survived without the help of the Native Americans. To acknowledge this, they had a feast of Thanksgiving.   The foods we eat at our Thanksgiving help tell the story of that early Potluck Feast where the Native Americans and Pilgrims all brought a dish to share.

A hand went up at the end of the story. As I called on that child, I prepared myself to answer questions about the Mayflower; or the Pilgrims; or the Native Americans; or what it was like to live on Plymouth Rock, but I didn’t see this question coming:

“What do you do if you don’t like the food on Thanksgiving Day, or if you can’t eat it all?”

I hadn’t seen it coming, yet the question clearly made perfect sense to the five-year-olds sitting before me.  The room was quiet.  All eyes were on me. They waited for the answer.

Suddenly, I saw it from their point of view.  Mealtime is often a battlefield for children.   It is hard for them to eat what is on their plate on a normal day, so a national holiday where the food is piled on the plate is not good news.   They are told over and over that they will have lots of stuffing and turkey and mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce and several kinds of vegetables.   And then (it almost always happens) they are asked if they are excited about it.

What do you do if you don’t like the food or can’t eat it all?

I went out on a limb and told them there would probably be something they didn’t like and something they did.  When a grandmother or father or mother or aunt noticed they didn’t eat their, say, brussels sprouts, they should just say, “Oh, I’m too full for those because I love the stuffing so much.  It’s delicious.”

I hope it worked at their houses, because it certainly has worked at mine over the years.

My daughter-in-law’s family joined us that year– there we were: two tribes, each bearing food. Like the Native Americans and Pilgrims, we had turkey and cranberries and oysters and squash.  I think the children were too full for the Brussels sprouts, but they seemed to love the sparkling cider and the praline topping on top of the sweet potatoes.  We sang.  We laughed.  We told stories.  We feasted.

It turns out it is not the food that makes a holiday special for children.  I know it to be true; I learned it in Diane Harris’ kindergarten.