There has been a misunderstanding.

The weather was sunny and wonderful, and I got home from work early, so we decided to take the kids to the mall to get us all out of the house. As we got into the car, our downstairs neighbor asked us if we wanted some turkey. Weird offer, but okay. He said he had some turkey we could have, and he’s a nice guy. We brought him some bananas once, just because we had too many, maybe he’s returning the favor. We were obviously on our way out the door, but he said we could stop by later.

After we got home, Ethan took the kids upstairs while I stopped by to pick up some leftover turkey. I knocked, waited a few minutes while I heard him wrangling the kids, and then he opened the door and let me in (after removing my shoes.) I said hello to his wife and the kids, exchanged some pleasantries as he opened the fridge, and saw him remove an entire, smoked, bagged turkey.

“Oh, wow! Um… where do we cut it?” I asked as he handed me the bag.

“No, for you!” he said.

“Wait, what? …are you giving me a whole bird?” I asked, because I wanted him to understand what it sounded like. They’re from Jordan, maybe there’s a language barrier here.

“Yes! It’s for you!”

Oh. “Um, no. You are not giving me a whole bird.”

“Yes!”

“No. Absolutely not. We can’t eat that! We can’t eat a whole bird!”

He looked genuinely perplexed. “Why not?”

“Because it’s a whole bird! This thing is huge! There’s only four of us!”

“We can’t eat it either,” he said. “You take it!”

You get the idea. There was begging. There was bartering. There was – what are the five stages of refusing a ridiculous amount of food from a neighbor? Denial, explanation, negotiation, absurd laughter, and finally acceptance. After learning that he had received a smoked turkey from a friend after eating a full holiday dinner – apparently both families had prepared the entire meal – I finally told him, “This is too much!”

To which he pointed out that we had given him about 10 pounds of ripe bananas that one time.

“Yes, but that was only five dollars!”

They wouldn’t have it. I thanked them, called them ridiculous, and finally went home defeated, carrying a comically large bird in a bag. I had been gone probably ten minutes by this time. The kids were settled, Ethan was busy doing something on the computer. I pulled my head in the doorway and said, “There’s been a misunderstanding.”

Ethan turned, expecting to see me holding a plate of turkey breast. I held up the entire smoked bird. I assured him that I said no – multiple times. “Why do you think I was gone so long? I have spent this entire time negotiating!” Now we have an entire smoked turkey in the fridge, and a (welcome) obligation to babysit their kids when she has a baby in February. I suppose they had a similar conundrum when we foisted ten pounds of ripe bananas on them.

Does anybody want some turkey?