Ask a class of seven and eight year olds how you prepare a turkey for Thanksgiving and you get some interesting answers. In today's class a large proportion of the boys' answers started with variations of "First, kill your turkey." Yes, we live in a rural area where there are flocks of wild turkeys, and people do hunt them.
The Littlest American agreed when I asked him where we are going to get our turkey from for tomorrow's lunch. "In the woods. First you have to shoot it and then you have to get the chicken out of it."
The Little American made a 'Happy Thanksgiving' card for her cousins in London yesterday. I can't blame her for not realising that Thanksgiving is an American holiday given the number of American adults who have asked me over the years how we celebrate Thanksgiving in the UK or if I miss my family at Thanksgiving.
In fact when I asked her, she really had very little clue what Thanksgiving is about at all - this despite having been 'taught' about it in school every year for at least the last three years and at daycare before that.
We emailed the card to her cousins anyway and there will be a forthcoming trip to the library to find some good books about Thanksgiving.