Read Online Quite a Spectacle by Meg Harding - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Meg Harding
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horse in the mouth? You impressed him enough yesterday for him to give you some room. Keep doing what you’ve been doing, and you’ll be set.”
Mary popped her head around the corner of the door, “Food’s ready. Everyone wash up.”
It was a scramble to the dining room, and Michael really had to marvel at the set up this family had. It was elegant looking, with fancy cutlery and plates, and the tablecloth was a cheery red and green. And there was so much food. They could feed an army.
In between every plate was what he guessed were the Christmas crackers. Three little wrapped rolls, each one with a bow separating them. They took their seats and everyone took a hold of the end of the cracker on either side of them.
Felisha counted down from three and then they pulled. The cracker came right apart and out spilled the paper crowns from the day before as well as several pieces of holiday candy.
Everyone began donning the crowns, and Michael followed suit even though he felt silly doing so. They were an array of colors, and the picture they all presented, sitting there at the dinner table with these colorful paper crowns perched on their heads, was an amusing one.
The children’s crowns were slipping down over their ears, and others wore theirs perched on the very top of their heads. His own was resting against his forehead as he had it completely around his head. He was pretty sure, if he were to rest it on the very top of his, he’d have it tossed off in seconds.
Max looked ridiculous with his bright orange crown, the tips of his ears tucked underneath. Michael adjusted the crown for him so he his ears supported the crown and poked out endearingly from his head. He got a tongue poked out at him for his effort. He shoved a bit of roll into Max’s open mouth and laughed at his affronted look.
“I’m going to get you back,” Max mumbled around the mouthful of roll.
“Max!” his mother scolded. “Manners!”
He chewed and swallowed, shooting Michael a glare as Max apologized to his mother.
Michael stuffed himself full, and he wasn’t the only one. Within the hour almost everyone was leaning back in their chairs, rubbing their stomachs and groaning. And then Felisha brought out the desserts. One was a pudding dish, “Yorkshire Pudding” she told him when he asked, and the other a massive trifle that looked absolutely delicious.
He groaned. “How am I supposed to eat all this?”
She laughed, cutting delicately into the desserts and dishing out pieces to those with their plates held eagerly out. “I’m sure you’ll manage somehow. Now put your plate out for a slice.”
He obliged and she dropped one tiny slice of each dish onto his plate. He was immensely grateful for how small the slices were.
Max held out his plate next to him. “Don’t worry,” he said, “You’ll be hungry again by dinnertime, and we just eat the leftovers. You’ll get more than enough.”
Michael moaned around his bite of the trifle. “You can bet I’m eating that whole thing later. Is this how you make sure there’s no leftovers? Eat at noon and then everyone polishes it off later?”
There was laughter around the table, and Jonathon admitted they did normally have very little left over the following day. In Michael’s family the leftovers from Christmas dinner would, on average, last them somewhere around a week.
It was a lazy and food-hungover group that made their way into the family room once the plates were all stashed in the kitchen. Felisha had waved them off saying they’d wash them later. No one was in a hurry to argue with her.
Michael had moved just fast enough to claim the couch, and Max collapsed in his lap, draping himself over him like a blanket. “Oof,” Michael groaned, trying to shove him off. “I don’t think so.”
Max hid his face in Michael’s neck. “Rub my back,” he said, “I feel sick.”
So despite the ache in his own stomach, he did just that, wrapping his arms around Max and
Mary popped her head around the corner of the door, “Food’s ready. Everyone wash up.”
It was a scramble to the dining room, and Michael really had to marvel at the set up this family had. It was elegant looking, with fancy cutlery and plates, and the tablecloth was a cheery red and green. And there was so much food. They could feed an army.
In between every plate was what he guessed were the Christmas crackers. Three little wrapped rolls, each one with a bow separating them. They took their seats and everyone took a hold of the end of the cracker on either side of them.
Felisha counted down from three and then they pulled. The cracker came right apart and out spilled the paper crowns from the day before as well as several pieces of holiday candy.
Everyone began donning the crowns, and Michael followed suit even though he felt silly doing so. They were an array of colors, and the picture they all presented, sitting there at the dinner table with these colorful paper crowns perched on their heads, was an amusing one.
The children’s crowns were slipping down over their ears, and others wore theirs perched on the very top of their heads. His own was resting against his forehead as he had it completely around his head. He was pretty sure, if he were to rest it on the very top of his, he’d have it tossed off in seconds.
Max looked ridiculous with his bright orange crown, the tips of his ears tucked underneath. Michael adjusted the crown for him so he his ears supported the crown and poked out endearingly from his head. He got a tongue poked out at him for his effort. He shoved a bit of roll into Max’s open mouth and laughed at his affronted look.
“I’m going to get you back,” Max mumbled around the mouthful of roll.
“Max!” his mother scolded. “Manners!”
He chewed and swallowed, shooting Michael a glare as Max apologized to his mother.
Michael stuffed himself full, and he wasn’t the only one. Within the hour almost everyone was leaning back in their chairs, rubbing their stomachs and groaning. And then Felisha brought out the desserts. One was a pudding dish, “Yorkshire Pudding” she told him when he asked, and the other a massive trifle that looked absolutely delicious.
He groaned. “How am I supposed to eat all this?”
She laughed, cutting delicately into the desserts and dishing out pieces to those with their plates held eagerly out. “I’m sure you’ll manage somehow. Now put your plate out for a slice.”
He obliged and she dropped one tiny slice of each dish onto his plate. He was immensely grateful for how small the slices were.
Max held out his plate next to him. “Don’t worry,” he said, “You’ll be hungry again by dinnertime, and we just eat the leftovers. You’ll get more than enough.”
Michael moaned around his bite of the trifle. “You can bet I’m eating that whole thing later. Is this how you make sure there’s no leftovers? Eat at noon and then everyone polishes it off later?”
There was laughter around the table, and Jonathon admitted they did normally have very little left over the following day. In Michael’s family the leftovers from Christmas dinner would, on average, last them somewhere around a week.
It was a lazy and food-hungover group that made their way into the family room once the plates were all stashed in the kitchen. Felisha had waved them off saying they’d wash them later. No one was in a hurry to argue with her.
Michael had moved just fast enough to claim the couch, and Max collapsed in his lap, draping himself over him like a blanket. “Oof,” Michael groaned, trying to shove him off. “I don’t think so.”
Max hid his face in Michael’s neck. “Rub my back,” he said, “I feel sick.”
So despite the ache in his own stomach, he did just that, wrapping his arms around Max and
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