This post was written in 2005.

On Ducky’s first Thanksgiving:

She will watch the Thanksgiving Parade on TV while she cruises around the apartment, babbles into her play telephone, looks at her board books, and hugs her soft baby doll.

She will eat her breakfast and lunch in the high-tech high chair in the dining room picking and choosing between Yo-Baby yogurt, homemade mashed vegetables, and that old standby: apple sauce.

She will listen to one of the many children’s CD her mother plays frequently. What will it be? Raffi, Music Together or Dan Zanes? Anyone in the mood for Kumbaya?

She will go to the Tot Spot in Propspect Park for a quick romp on the miniature playground equipment perfect for an active 15-month-old.

She’ll watch as her mother pulls out the outfits she is deciding between. There will be much discussion about which dress will be most perfect for Ducky’s first Thanksgiving.

All this talk about dresses, shoes and tights will make her sleepy. She will fall asleep in her crib, resting up for the big event.

When she wakes up, her mother will dress her in the chosen outfit, the appropriate tights and shoes.

Her parents will bundle her in the cozy down sleeping bag she wears in her stroller. Strapped into her car seat, she will drive across the Brooklyn Bridge to Manhattan, where she attend a restaurant Thanksfiving in a West Village restaurant in the company of 21 members of her family on her maternal grandmother’s side.

There will be much in the way of oohing and ah-ing, cooing and oh-ing. Her many female relatives will want to hold her in their arms. Even her male relatives will come around.

She will be bathed in the love of her family, which she will return with her winning smile that illuminates whatever room she is in.

We give thanks for such joy.