Last night I enjoyed a wonderful dinner party at my brother's house to celebrate my sister-in-law's birthday. We feasted on delicious sautéed lamb and pork chops, creamy garlic mashed potatoes, crisp salad, steamed asparagus with homemade mayonnaise, and biscuits. Dessert was a decadent chocolate birthday cake filled with coma-inducing chocolate ganache.
It felt like another amazing Thanksgiving dinner, all of us gathered around my brother's enormous, handmade dining room table, sharing stories and passing plates of delectable fare back & forth... And as always, stories of the kids' past antics came up. Things they said, things they did, or things they ate when they were little...
As we sat there laughing at our end of the table, the far end became quiet as my nieces and I watched a secret being passed from one ear to another. The Telephone Game had begun, starting with my sister-in-law. As it came to me I heard my dear relative whisper in my ear, "We're playing the telephone game and Bobby* ate cat shit."
While we'd been laughing about Sally* playing with electrical outlets and surviving, turns out my sweet darling nephew asked his mother if he'd ever eaten anything strange. Rather than answer him audibly, she sent the answer to him on a hushed, liberating journey through several ear canals.
When the secret eventually arrived at its final destination, in his grandfather's ear, Grandpa was certain the original message had been corrupted. Nope. Shortly after he'd learned to walk, Johnny found the litter box one day and reached in to help himself to a little kitty roca.
And then we had our chocolate cake.
*Names have been changed to protect the traumatized.
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