I'm a little tea pot

Tomorrow, my family is hosting Thanksgiving. We are 5 in my immediate family.

Around 5pm, TWENTY of our nearest and dearest are descending upon our humble abode, and that's only one side of the family with some family members missing.

My mother is making 5 desserts. Just in case. She feels like a bit of a failure for not making pound cake AND chocolate cake to accompany the medley of pies to be displayed.

So, I've been helping out as best I can, but apparently, not correctly.

As I was dusting tonight, I was using "too much pledge" and had to be reminded to "spray it ON THE rag" but not "near the floor" or slipping is eminent. You pledge with SIDEWAYS motions and with SPARINGLY spritzed amounts, dusting the surface first and THEN progressing to the items that reside there.

I turned around, and told her "you know, last week I told so-and-so that he was a control freak in a meeting. I meant it with love, and I'm telling you now. Also, with love."

Mom turned around and looked fake-shocked. This is a skill we all have perfected. The huffy, fake-shocked pout.

To back-peddle with a bit of humor, I told her the rest of the story: How so-and-so countered with "ring ring! ring ring! Hello Kettle? IT'S POT!"

Mom laughed. She said, "that's good. I'll have to use that one!"

And like that, Shifty saved me from being grown-up grounded.

And then for the rest of the evening, it was a joke. Mom would pick up the tea kettle and wag it at me while fake-chastising me to "watch out for the pledge on the floor!".

This is what happens when anal-retentive people have anal-retentive children. I had to pledge the whole house and arrange things in the medicine cabinets neatly, because my mother heard on Oprah that 60% of people dig through other people's medicine cabinets when they are visiting.

The labels are facing just so.

Like mother, like daughter I suppose.