I was probably six or seven at the time. My mom’s candles set the kitchen curtains and some decorative greenery on fire.
My sister, my cousins, and I were at the “kids’ table” in the kitchen while the adults were in the dining room, so no one significant noticed anything except me.
My mom had warned us not to disturb the adults during dinner, so I quietly walked to the dining room and stood silently for a minute or two until someone noticed me. Only then did I politely say, “Sorry, but the kitchen’s on fire.” My mom still gives me grief about prioritizing politeness over common sense. © LOTR4eva1 / Reddit
Once, one of my aunts was supposed to bring some type of seafood (I’m pretty sure it was crab) but didn’t, claiming she couldn’t afford it.
This upset my other aunties, especially when she started bragging later in the evening about her planned vacations and expensive trips, but they didn’t say anything at first.
Things boiled over when they caught her trying to take all of the leftover seafood dishes, and it ended with her and my mom nearly fighting on the front lawn. © Maru__ / Reddit
My uncle was dating this lady who was super fake and acted like she was family from the beginning. She kept asking to host a holiday, and my mom, wanting to be nice, said she could have Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving was my mom’s holiday to host, but she wanted the girlfriend to feel included.
We all went to her house, and it was filthy. I’m talking big clumps of old dust bunnies right out in the open—all over the living room, kitchen, hallways, just everywhere. It smelled like a garbage can.
I had to use the toilet, so I went upstairs where she said it was.
There was laundry everywhere. When I got to the bathroom, it was caked with mold and had a mountain of garbage, makeup supplies, and random things piled on one of the two sinks.
She also ordered food and served it to us on Styrofoam plates.
Not that I need fine porcelain, but come on, lady—you begged for a holiday and then didn’t do any hosting at all. © googletoldmeto / Reddit
My family hosted an exchange student during Thanksgiving one year. Thanksgiving is a big deal in our family—35+ people at dinner, tons of food, appetizers galore, etc.—and this was going to be her first and only Thanksgiving, so we played up how exciting it was.
We told her there would be a ton of food and said, “Don’t eat a big breakfast! Save room for the amazing Thanksgiving food!”
She ended up not eating anything at all on Wednesday or Thursday morning and fainted in my uncle’s living room on Thanksgiving Day.
She hadn’t even eaten any appetizers—turned out she didn’t know what that word meant and didn’t realize she was allowed to eat the food spread out all over the coffee table and bar.
We almost had to take her to the emergency room because her English wasn’t quite good enough to explain why she fainted, and we thought something was seriously wrong. After all that, she ended up not even liking the food. © ostentia / Reddit
My mother decided she didn’t want a traditional Thanksgiving, so she made us what we each wanted: pizza, enchiladas, and buffalo wings. However, my father didn’t appreciate it.
When he saw the other foods displayed on the table, he started shouting that it’s against the law not to eat turkey. © Unknown author / Reddit
It was after dinner, and everyone was taking a pre-dessert break to clean up and get ready (dessert is serious).
My father was sitting at the head of the table, watching the game on TV at the far end, while I was dozing on the couch.
My mother walked in from the kitchen, paused, and blankly said, “The table is on fire.”
I perked up, and sure enough, someone had knocked a candle over, and the tablecloth was on fire.
My father, still watching the game through the flames, hadn’t even noticed. Thankfully, we put it out quickly, but we still tease him about his obliviousness. © antisocialpsych / Reddit
It was my 1st Thanksgiving with my ex-fiancée’s family. Everyone seemed obsessed with her mom’s “famous” pie.
I took a bite, and it was amazing—almost too perfect.
Later that night, something shiny caught my eye in the trash. Curious, I picked it up, and my skin crawled. It was a packet of food labeled “Meat Flavor Concentrate—Grade D (For Animal Feed).” They didn’t have any pets.
My ex-fiancée saw me and her face turned pale.
It turned out she knew her mom used this disgusting, questionable ingredient—and she loved eating it anyway.
The next morning, I brought up the pie with her mom and asked why it tasted so unusual. She just smiled and said, “Some family recipes are best kept secret.”
I didn’t finish breakfast, and I broke up with my fiancée a month later.
