In the letter, Granny told my parents how much she and Granddaddy enjoyed our visit and what a pleasure it had been to share Thanksgiving with such precious, energetic grandchildren. We must plan to come again for Thanksgiving next year, she insisted.

And then came the part I’ve always loved. Granny wrote that she was cleaning and straightening the house after we left and found “one of Bethie’s little shoes under the divan.” She said she sat down in a chair and cried and cried.

I always thought she wrote that because she loved and missed me so much. Now that I’m a grandmother, I finally understand.

Granny was slap worn out.

Everybody’s heard the old joke about how beautiful tail lights are as the car full of grandchildren pulls out of the driveway. I adore my seven grands, but after three or four days, those tail lights do glitter, promising return to a peaceful, quiet house. The problem is the noise level, I’ve decided; I’m spoiled to my normal tranquility.

Thus I was moved to rewrite that old favorite, “Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we go . . .” The original words bring to mind one of those Norman Rockwell paintings where all is absolutely perfect, but that’s because paintings don’t make noise. Here’s my version. I call it “Granny’s Confession,” or “Turn That Sleigh Around.”

Over the river and through the woods,
This Thanksgiving rhyme we sing,
Of moonlight aglow,
Of horses and snow, and
Sleighbells that peacefully ring.

Over the river and through the woods –
‘Tis quite a romantic notion;
But adults are aware
As we pull out our hair,
The defining word is “commotion.”

Take all the grands and stir ‘em around,
Full speed ahead and no quitting;
Mix in all the laughs,
The racket and gaffes,
You guessed it, our poor heads are splitting.

Over the river and through the woods,
They’re leaving a day or two later;
Kisses are shared and
Good times declared,
Proclaiming this one a first-rater.

Granny’s all smiles, propped on the porch,
Happy to wave and yell, “Bye!”
But what have we here?
Could that be a tear,
Or just something that got in her eye?

Over the river and through the woods,
Hurray for the holiday cheer!
No matter the fuss,
The joke is on us,
‘Cause we’re thrilled to repeat it each year!