A Thanksgiving to Remember

Here is your weekly Vea story Tiare A Thanksgiving to Remember: Fetu'ufuka 'Alisi Peaua was born on November 21, 1995. Thanksgiving in 1995 was on Thursday, November 23. I brought my 2 day old baby girl to my in-laws house for a family Thanksgiving. Vea (your future hubby) was 21 months old at the time. Fuka was bundled and fed and enclosed on one of the couches in the living room. She had a barrier between her and the floor the Great Wall of China would have envied. Needless to say that she was safely tucked into a cocoon of warmth and safety. After checking on her for the umpteenth time I felt safe to use the restroom. I let others, the large family at home know I was going to vacate the living room and was assured (understandably) I was OK to do so. Check, clear, covered. Nothing was going to happen in such a short amount of time with all bases covered. What happened next you ask? I returned in record time to the place I had left my new bundle of joy (joy I did not know two days previously was going to be a girl btw, but that's another story). This bundle I had left on the couch was wrapped in only one truly obviously identifiable item, a pink blanket (the hospital felt it would be a disservice to allow me to leave without something marking her as a girl since everything I brought was for another boy... sorry getting sidetracked). So I return to the spot I had recently vacated with my little Star Child only to discover it EMPTY! There was absolutely NO sign of my daughter, ANYWHERE. The wall of china was still intact, but no baby. I ran into the kitchen where mayhem had erupted. Dube, our family dog had just finished off the entire turkey, a 30 lb + turkey to be precise. There was yelling, and absolute chaos reigning. I am trying to get in a word because my baby is MISSING. No one heard me. My voice, drowned out by the ensuing realization that there would be no turkey because Dube (my contribution before a grandson and grand-daughter) had inhaled my mother in-laws efforts in one quick mouthful. Dube, stomach bulging, didn't look the least sick for the record, in fact he was grinning from ear to ear (did you know Dube was exactly to the date one year older than Vea?). Oops, sidetracked again. In this mayhem I am now searching frantically EVERYWHERE for my BABY! I check every bedroom, every nook and cranny. WHERE OH WHERE COULD MY BABY BE??? Then I see him, Vea. He's sitting in the corner of the living room and looking at the floor, swinging his legs, merrily, smiling, and that's when it hit me, he looked REALLY happy. Proud of himself. Like he had just accomplished something. Something BIG. When Vea was getting close to two it meant only ONE THING: WATCH OUT. He was up to SOMETHING. That look meant: He was REALLY smug and VERY pleased with himself for something REALLY smart that he'd done. By really smart, he'd outwitted, outthunk, and outdone an adult in his life. Remember this man of yours was not even 2 then! I approached him cautiously, knowing that I had to proceed with caution. You see, even at 21 months old, I knew something about Vea, he was already smarter then most adults I knew. My biggest problem was communicating with him. Vea only spoke Tongan. While I knew enough to run if it looked like I might end up as the main course on the table, he out spoke my Tongan by like a light year and then some. Using my broken Tongan I asked him if he knew where the baby was. He looked up at that moment and looked me directly in the eyes and shrugged his shoulders. He then proceeded to look back down and grin. That grin meant only ONE THING: UH OH, "HOUSTON YOU HAVE A PROBLEM!" I pleaded, I cried, I rallied for back up, but the turkey being (quickly) digested in the belly of Dube was the only known of concern at the time. Don't get me wrong, it's not like they didn't care, they just did not HEAR me over the commotion. I squared my shoulders and decided to plead, to bargain with God and my little prince to give me a sign, ANY sign on the location of my baby. My prayers were answered. Vea looked down with those enormous dark eyes and I followed the direction right down towards the coffee table and that's when I saw pink. I SAW PINK! I saw pink UNDERNEATH the coffee table. A 3 tier, 80's coffee table. Underneath the lowest tier with what did not seem like more than a few inches from the carpet I saw a swatch of pink, baby pink, baby girl pink. I pulled gently on the blanket and there on the pink blanket a tiny little hand emerged. I tugged again and an arm. I continued for what seemed like hours. Finally I had my baby girl. I hadn't imagined her or lost her. She was alive! I sank to my knees, holding her to me. Crying. Vea came up to me then from his corner perch. He placed a hand on my shoulder, one hand on her head, and said in Tongan, "That is not a brother." "You said brother, not sister." I explained in the best way I could she was a surprise. He said, that no, hiding her and finding her, that was a "SURPISE" he yelled (in broken English). Too smart, too smart. Needless to say after that, we kept one eye on the baby, and one eye on the turkey and one person on Vea. I hope this makes you laugh, makes you smile, and mostly fills your heart with the silliness that is our sweet Vea. His stories will keep us strong for the next two years. His laughter will keep us warm. I love you sweet one. Thank you for the blessing that is you in his heart and filling him with love and warmth this first Thanksgiving away. 'Ofa 'atu - K — with Tiare Gonzales.