Do you know what that means, my dear?

Every year, the day before Thanksgiving, my Grandma recited this poem to me and my aunts and uncles and my mom. She's passed away a long time now, but my aunts and uncles have carried on the tradition. My mom or my Auntie Carol out on the East Coast are usually the first ones to "get" me. They race around and try to call each other to be the first to "get" each other. I, of course, have carried on the tradition with Stomp and Grunt who don't quite appreciate it yet. But it just isn't the day before Thanksgiving without this poem. I don't know where the tradition came from but I know it will always live on with me and, I hope, with my boys.

"Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, do you know what that means my dear? Of course I couldn't expect you to, you've only been with us a year. You came from my Auntie in Paris, far over the deep blue sea and tomorrow you'll spend your first Thanksgiving, my beautiful darling, with me."