On Gratitude and Boats

With some oddly small turkey feet for good measure

My most recent humbling motherhood moment — actually, two moments — came in the form of a paper turkey.

You’ve probably seen them floating around social media, if you dabble in the same parent accounts that I do.¹ The idea is simple: Make a paper turkey and add “feathers,” each featuring something your child is thankful for.

I drew and cut out the turkey and his little waddle and accidentally too small feet during one of Foster’s naps and taped him on the wall in our dining room. As I traced feathers on construction paper, I thought to myself about what Foster would say he was thankful for first.

I am much prouder of this than I should be.

I knew gratitude would be a hard concept for a two and a half year old, so I planned to phrase it as something he loves or something that makes him happy. Misty-eyed, I pictured Foster telling me he loved me, Dad, his grandparents, his cousins, his dogs. Then, as I snapped back to reality, I told Tanner with a laugh: “I’ll give you $100 if his first contribution is NOT fire trucks.”²

Foster didn’t notice the turkey until Tanner was making dinner that night. “What dis?” he asked as he walked out of the kitchen. I explained the concept and showed him the different colored feathers we could pick from.

“What color feather would you like to add first?” I said.

“Red!” he shouted.

“And what’s something that you love that we can write on that feather?” I said, already writing a letter F because I know my kid (and also am cocky).

“Pyre twucks!” he shouted.

I grinned. “I was right!” I told Tanner.

“Okay, buddy,” I said to Foster. “What color feather next?”

“Owange!” he said. And then he paused.

I waited patiently, sure he was trying to decide which beloved relative to name first. Or, hey, maybe he was going to go the charmingly quirky toddler route and say something like “police cars” or “baseball” — two things he does in fact love. I could handle that. We’d get to the true meaning of gratitude eventually, and who’s to say he shouldn’t also be grateful for things he genuinely enjoys?

Instead, he took me for a ride.

“Pop’s toffee tup owange,” he said.

I blinked.

“Yeah, Pop’s coffee cup is orange,” I said, picturing my dad’s Tennessee orange³ Yeti mug. “But the thing you love doesn’t have to be orange. What’s something you love?”

He doubled down.

“Pop’s toffee tup!” he said. “It owange!”

“You’re right, bud, but we can do any col—”

“POP’S TOFFEE TUP!!”

I wrote it down.

It got better. Er, worse.

“Okay! Next feather!” I said, not mentioning that it was yellow so we wouldn’t fall into the color matching trap again. “Tell me something that makes you happy.”

Unfortunately, the kid doesn’t miss much. He spotted my Sharpie poised over the yellow paper and tapped his finger on his chin, a recent habit he’s picked up to show he’s thinking. Normally, I find this adorable. In that moment, it filled me with dread.

“Lellow boat!” he shouted.

Child, I thought to myself, you have never even been on a boat.

But I wrote it down.

“Next feather!” I said with slightly forced cheer, because while I was feeling defeated about my (in)ability to convey gratitude to a toddler, I was going to continue this activity come hell or high water. I freehand drew this entire turkey, for crying out loud. And he turned out somewhat cute, weird tiny feet and all! I am so bad at all things art! I could not let this go to waste! (Also, cultivating a thankful heart in my kid or whatever!)

“Blue boat!” Foster said.

The audacity.

You don’t even have any boat TOYS, I wanted to scream.

But I looked down at the table. I was writing on another yellow feather. Was this a win? We were still listing the dumbest things⁴ to be grateful for, but we were no longer hung up on matching the color of the feather to our item.

I wrote it down.

We ended on a high note, miraculously naming Dad and our dog Ollie without any prompting from me. I quit while we were ahead and sent a picture of the turkey to a few different group chats, mocking my high hopes in the text.

Ironically, three days after this exercise, he rode on his first-ever boat. (It was white. But there were yellow accents.)

Because listen. Was this a fail? It felt like one. He did not grasp even a little bit what it meant to be grateful and instead went on a nautical-themed⁵ tangent.

But what is the “right” thing to be grateful for, anyway?

How many times am I grateful for a good parking spot, or a green light at the exact right moment? How fervently did I pray (for months!) for good weather⁶ for my late March wedding? How often do I get excited for a new podcast episode, a library hold coming in, a new flavor of ice cream?

James says to count it all joy. Granted, he was talking about gratitude in circumstances like wage theft and illness. But the sentiment remains: Find the good, no matter the situation. (Or — if you will — the color of your boat.)

P.S.: We added a few more feathers about a week later. This time, we listed school (red feather), Pop and Lolli (yellow feather), and … tomatoes (red feather). We’ll get there. In the meantime: Joy.

1. You know, the ones that make you feel like you’re doing a bad job in basically every aspect of being a parent. But there are cute craft ideas!

2. He is a man obsessed.

3. AKA obnoxious orange. Go Vols.

4. No shade to … sailors?, but what was with the sudden obsession with watercraft?!

5. Apologies if you finished that phrase with “pashmina afghan” and now have this stuck in your head. Shoutout to one of the other editors at my college newspaper for playing this loudly, on a loop, in the newsroom for all of 2009. I still know every (NSFW) word.

6. 74 and sunny, no humidity, low pollen. Won’t He do it.