The turkey was a trap: Why I told my 9-year-old son to play dead during our family Thanksgiving

I hooked my pinky finger around his.

“Don’t move,” I breathed, the words barely a vibration. “Just stay still.”

Then, the true horror began: the planning.

“Robert, help me move them,” Eleanor commanded. “We’ll set the scene in the car. A tragic accident. An unstable mother, a heavy dose of ‘medication,’ and a sharp turn into the ravine.”

“Eleanor, you continue reading …