Sometimes privilege heaps upon privilege, and I can scarcely believe my good fortune.

It’s a lasting treat to savor lovely memories of a recent event—but to have something else wonderful to look forward to, well, that’s just double good luck.

The lovely memories of a recent event?  Thanksgiving with daughter Lisa and son-in-law Eric, my grandchildren Adam and Abby and my brother Warren, in my home.  What a great holiday.

Oh, I’m not saying it was a perfect time, because I suppose there were a couple of things that could have been better.

It would have been better had wee Abby—who is not yet two-- not been awakened from the depths of her nap in order to bundle her into the car to go to Grandma’s house.  And it would have been better had her three-and-a-half year old brother Adam not fallen asleep in the car on the way to Grandma’s house and had to be awakened upon arrival.  As the afternoon unfolded, I thought a bit about heredity.

Have I ever mentioned that I am not a good napper?

When I awaken from a nap, I feel out of sorts and would prefer that someone bring me a glass of room-temperature 7-Up and tiptoe softly about, catering to my whims for several hours, until I am sufficiently recovered from my nap to be pleasant.

So here were these two beloved little grand kids coming in the door, after I’d been buzzing around preparing assortments of toys and books for their entertainment, impatiently awaiting my opportunity to grab them and kiss them on their sweet necks.

I did not expect Adam to march silently past me, glowering sleepily, heading for the couch. Nor did I expect Abby to swerve out of my reach and trot as far from me as she could get, her lower lip stuck out, clearly ready for combat. Oh, my.

Eventually, Adam roused from sleepiness and set about investigating the cars and puzzles and wooden train awaiting him.

He and his dad began assembling train track—but Abby, still fussy, persisted in pushing her way into Adam’s space, randomly grabbing a piece of  track or a train car. Adam’s interrupted nap in the car clearly did not leave him with limitless patience.

Really, I often see these children playing together cheerfully, but on Thanksgiving? Not so much.

Still, we all ended up peacefully around the dining table—Abby sitting in her mother’s old highchair—enjoying the traditional array of a turkey dinner.  I looked around the table, thankful for the sights and sounds of this half of my family together.

In Idaho, I knew my daughter-in-law Debbie’s parents were serving a similar Thanksgiving feast.

Idaho?  Ah, that’s the “something else wonderful” I earlier mentioned. It won’t be long until my pre-Christmas visit to son Brad and his family in Idaho.  I’m already feeling thankful, all over again.