Living with Multiple Sclerosis often means adjusting expectations and finding new ways to spend time together, especially during busy holidays like Thanksgiving. While I may not always have the energy for massive cooking projects or travel, one tradition that always brings us pure joy is creating a story, one sentence at a time, with my daughter, Maddy. It’s a low-energy, high-imagination activity that reminds us both of the magic we can still find in the everyday.
This year, we cooked up a truly wild, whimsical Thanksgiving adventure involving a missing ingredient, a tiny dragon, a flying cat, and a grumpy turkey.
We hope you enjoy reading our completely unexpected holiday tale!
A Very Special Thanksgiving
The crisp, chilly air outside smelled exactly like the sweet, nutty pumpkin pie that Madelyn was helping her grandma bake in the warm kitchen.
Then, suddenly, Grandma gasped, “I forgot the nutmeg! I will have to go and get some more!”
Madelyn knew the stores would be crowded, so she quickly suggested, “Wait, Grandma! Let’s check the old spice cabinet in the basement—you never know what treasures are hidden in there!”
So, Madelyn and Grandma headed down to the dark musty basement, and made their way to the old spice cabinet. When Madelyn opened the door, she let out a small scream when a dragon flew out toward her face.
But instead of fire, the tiny, emerald-green dragon breathed out a puff of bright orange smoke that smelled strongly of… nutmeg!
“Did you eat the nutmeg, little one?” Madelyn said to the dragon. The dragon nodded and responded, “it was yummy!”
Grandma carefully handed the dragon a tiny, leftover crust from a pie, saying, “Well, if you ate our spice, then you’ll have to lend us some of your nutmeg breath for the pie, little fellow!”
“Okay! Can I have some pie too when it’s done? And, can my friends come over too?” Said the dragon.
“Of course, little one,” Grandma laughed, “but you have to help us first!” Madelyn carefully held a spoon above the pie filling, and the little dragon hovered over it, breathing out a perfect, warm cloud of nutmeg-scented smoke right onto the spice-less dessert.
Grandma giggled at the sight and said, “no one will ever believe our secret ingredient for the pie is dragon breath!” Madelyn smiled, and agreed it was a pretty special ingredient.
The little dragon, whose name was now officially ‘Nutmeg,’ excitedly chirped that his friends were a family of talking squirrels who brought the best roasted chestnuts, and a grumpy, featherless turkey named Tom who preferred cranberry sauce to flying.
The grumpy turkey, Tom, sat down at the table next to a pile of mashed potatoes, and the talking squirrels chattered excitedly as Grandma took a picture of the unique Thanksgiving crew.
“Madelyn, do you think your friends will believe this?!” asked Grandma as she took a picture of the Thanksgiving crew. “Isn’t this normal? Just like the first Thanksgiving, Grandma,” the little dragon chirped and titled his head in confusion.
Madelyn leaned down and whispered to Nutmeg, “It’s better than normal! Now, let’s see if Tom the turkey will share his famous cranberry-sauce recipe with the squirrels!”
“No way! This is my cranberry sauce recipe! It’s been in my family for years, and it’s the only way we keep ourselves from being eaten on Thanksgiving! I’ll never share my secret!” Tom said, with a bit of a smile.
One of the talking squirrels, Squiggy, held up a perfect, shiny chestnut and offered it to Tom, saying, “We promise we won’t tell! But we’ll trade you this super-rare Golden Chestnut if you just tell us the secret ingredient!”
“Well, that chestnut does look pretty good. That seems like a fair trade.” said Tom. “The secret is this isn’t cranberry sauce at all, it’s actually made out of rainbow berry juice, and lucky for us, I have a friend who has the best rainbow berries in town!”
Nutmeg immediately perked up and asked, “Does your friend have wings? I bet they’d love a ride on my back to pick up some more rainbow berries for the holiday dinner!”
Tom thought about this offer for a short while. He wanted his friend, Charlie, to come to dinner, but had some concerns if Nutmeg would be big enough to carry her because she is a 10 pound black cat that lived on the other side of town. Luckily, Tom also knew that Charlie used to be a witch’s cat, and knew a lot of witchcraft. She had told him before that she knew of a potion that could allow her to fly. So, he gave her a call, told her about the party, and invited her over.
Charlie, the sleek black cat, meowed excitedly into the phone and said, “A Thanksgiving feast and a dragon? Tell Nutmeg to meet me at the old oak tree! I’m whipping up a batch of my Feather-Light Floating Potion right now—I’ll be there with a basket of rainbow berries in no time!”
Nutmeg headed out right away to meet Charlie at the old oak tree, he could not wait to see a cat fly! When he arrived at the oak tree, he heard “why hello there, little dragon. What are you doing out so late?” He couldn’t be sure, because they had not met before, but Nutmeg thought this voice sounded like Granite, the magical coyote.
“Oh, hello!” Nutmeg squeaked, hoping his nutmeg breath didn’t give away his secret ingredient status. “I’m waiting for a flying cat named Charlie who’s bringing rainbow berries for my Thanksgiving dinner!”
“I see,” Said Granite. “Why wait for that silly pussycat. I know of a rainbow berry bush just over there.” and he pointed across a dark field. Granite had a mischievous plan. He actually had never had rainbow berries before, and wanted to get the little dragon away from the oak tree so he could steal them from this flying cat rumored to be on her way.
Nutmeg, who was very smart for a tiny dragon, noticed that the direction Granite pointed was the opposite of where Charlie lived, and he suddenly let out a whoosh of cinnamon-scented smoke—his best warning puff—just as he heard a faint swoosh and a tiny black shadow descending from the sky.
“What are you doing here Granite?!” Charlie said as she landed so close to the coyote that he fell backwards. “This cute dragon is not in the mood for your mischief.”
Granite scrambled backward, coughing from the cinnamon smoke, and quickly invented an excuse: “Mischief? I was just trying to help the little fella find some more rainbow berries! I’m feeling very thankful this year!”
“I know you, shifty! I bet you’re just trying to eat our food because you can’t get any food yourself!” Charlie and Granite had a long rivalry, and Charlie had learned not to trust him.
Charlie winked at Nutmeg and then used her tail to scoop up a pinch of the cinnamon smoke. She whispered a quick spell, and the smoke solidified into a tiny, sparkling red barrier that protected her basket of rainbow berries from the sneaky coyote.
With that, they both leaped into the air with a whoosh, and headed back towards Grandma’s house. The thought of the delicious meal they were headed to lingered in Granite’s mind. He knew about Thanksgiving, and he felt jealous he didn’t have a party of his own to attend.
Just as the dining room door was about to close, Madelyn spotted the lonely coyote watching from the yard, and remembering the spirit of the day, she gently opened the door and called out, “Granite! We have plenty of room for one more. Would you like a piece of our dragon-spiced pumpkin pie?”
