When It Isn’t “More The Merrier”

, , , , , , , , | Related | January 1, 2018

(My parents have hosted Christmas Eve for both sides of the family as long as I can remember. Gatherings in my family are informal; a few people sit at tables for comfort or practicality, but many of us occupy couches or the floor around coffee tables. When I was growing up we lived in a large house, but my parents downsized about seven years ago. This year, for the first time since they moved, basically everyone is coming. Nobody is with in-laws, and some of the old “kids table” group have their own children now, so the total expected head count is larger than it’s ever been at their current place. Four generations will be represented. My mom can be rather uptight and is more of the planner than my dad, so I text her and ask if she wants me to bring an extra dessert, knowing we’ll have so many people. A few moments later my phone rings.)

Me: “Hi, Mom!”

Mom: “YOU AND [BOYFRIEND] CAN EAT IN OUR BED OR SITTING ON THE TOILET!”

Me: “Um… What?”

Mom: “THERE’S GOING TO BE AT LEAST THIRTY-FOUR PEOPLE, MAYBE MORE! I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I’M GOING TO PUT EVERYONE!”

Me: *laughing* “It’ll be fine! It’s always fine.”

(I can hear my dad yell to her from the background, “Nobody will care! There’s never enough chairs, anyway!”)

Mom: “WE’LL NEVER FIT!”

Me: “So, should I bring the bundt cake?”

Mom: “Yes, please! You can eat it in the bathroom, too!”

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