At Miss Crankypants’ house, everything’s turning out lumpy. From the mattress to the gravy, the lumps just keep coming. And wouldn’t you know: this year, the shopping days until Christmas are shorter than Cranky Cat’s nonexistent tail.
Why so lumpy? It started with one of the branches of the Crankypants family, the one with the toddler named Bodhizepha. Bodhi had nothing to do with it, but his parents succeeded in making Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas 2013–not to mention the lil tyke’s November birthday–an exercise in hand-offs, pick-ups and a LOT of buckling in and out of a toddler’s car seat.
The sad news, is that yes, the mom and dad are disagreeing about everything and have quite unamicably split up. Hollywood celebs are always splitting, after which they never fail to claim they remain “the best of friends.” For Bodhi’s parents, this would only be true if it included friends who call each other terrible names, deflate each other’s tires and quibble over the clothes the poor kid wears.
So here we are on Thanksgiving and one of the few things left to be thankful for is that Miss Cranky’s grandson may not know exactly which house is home these days, but he will have good fashion sense, if his father has anything to say about it.
Who cares about a perfectly roasted turkey? The Bodester will be decked out in miniature Carhart pants, Carhart jacket and Carhart beanie. This little ensemble cost an arm and a turkey drumstick, my friends. The same amount of cash would buy a third world country.
The barely two year-old will also wear cool accessories: a punk rock studded belt to hold up his toddler-sized jeans and green checkered Van’s on his toddler-sized feet.
Bodhi will then be able to yell his favorite word: “Yee-a-ah!” followed by “Whoa!” And then he’ll dig into his LUMPY mashed potatoes and get pumpkin pie goo stuck in his hair.
Miss Crankypants is trying to stay upbeat, although it’s not easy when her son’s family lies more fractured than any fairy tale. If she could have just one wish this holiday season, it would be for some miracle that reunites Bodhi’s parents, so America could count one less broken family. The odds of this happening are the same as the chances of Miss CP’s turkey gravy turning out smooth.
She figures that in life you just have to somehow get through the lumps coming your way. Accept the changes and move on. And if you look in the mirror and realize you have become as lumpy as the taters, you’ll be eating nothing but lettuce come the first of the year. For now, the lumps are bittersweet: and  no matter how many marshmallows you pile on the yams, they taste just like sour grapes.  Have a Lumpy Thanksgiving.