Child-rearing experts tell us it’s important that families share meals.
Dinnertime should be a ritual, they say, a time for gathering together, sharing school news, discussing current events. A time of glowing cheeks and hot food and table settings worthy of a Norman Rockwell painting.
In households where both parents work outside the home, such dinners are difficult to schedule. But because I work at home, we frequently manage to get the entire family around the table at the same time. Here’s what the rest of you are missing:
Dad: “Dang, I got all sweaty cooking this. What’s the temperature in this kitchen? Eighty? Ninety?”
Mom: “Put your napkins in your laps.”
No. 1 Son: “Broccoli? I hate broccoli.”
No. 2 Son: “I’m going to miss my favorite TV show.”
Mom: “Eat it. It’s good for you.”
No. 2 Son: “If I eat real fast, can I go watch my show?”
Dad: “Eat the broccoli. You want to get colon cancer?”
Mom: “Let’s not discuss colons at the table. Put your napkins in your laps.”
Dad: “I’m sweating onto my plate.”
No. 1 Son: “If he eats my broccoli for me, can we both go watch TV?”
Dad and Mom: “NO!”
No. 2 Son: Whimpering noises.
Dad: “Enough. How was everyone’s day?”
Mom: “Is that your napkin? Why is it on the floor?”
No. 1 Son: “The dog LIKES broccoli.”
Dad: “I had a good day. How about the rest of you?”
No. 2 Son: Gargling noises.
Mom: “Don’t gargle your juice.”
No. 1 Son: “My day sucked.”
Dad: “Don’t say ‘sucked.’ It’s rude.”
No. 2 Son: Choking noises.
No. 1 Son (under his breath): “Sucked, sucked, sucked.”
No. 2 Son: “Does anybody care that I’m choking to death?”
Mom and Dad: “No!”
Mom: “Mine went okay. But I was in meetings all day. I’m exhausted.”
Dad: “You look tired.”
No. 2 Son: “Pikachu! Pikachu!”
Mom: “What do you mean, I look tired?”
No. 1 Son: “A girl tried to kiss me today.”
Dad: “Nothing. I mean, you said you’re exhausted. Your eyes are droopy.”
Mom: “Don’t put your face down to the plate. Lift the food on your fork.”
Dad: “Kiss you? What did you do?”
Mom: “What do you mean, droopy?”
No. 2 Son: “Do you like seafood?”
Mom and Dad: “No!”
No. 2 Son opens mouth so we can all “see” the “food” inside.
No. 1 Son: “Gross! You’re disgusting!”
Mom: “Don’t call your brother disgusting.”
No. 2 Son: “Droopy eyes! Droopy eyes!”
Mom: “Don’t be disgusting.”
No. 1 Son: “I kicked her.”
Dad: “Who?”
Mom: “What did you do all day?”
No. 1 Son: “The girl. Miss Kissy-face.”
Mom: “Don’t kick people. It’s not nice.”
No. 1 Son: “At least it’s not disgusting. What is this meat?”
Dad: “The usual. Wrote a column. Laundry. Vacuumed the floors.”
No. 1 Son: “I’m not eating this. Here, boy. Here, boy.”
Dad: “Don’t drop that on my clean floor.”
No. 2 Son: “May I be excused?”
Mom: “Get that dog away from the table.”
Dad: “Here, boy. Here, boy.”
Dog (confused): “Arf! Arf!”
Mom: “You don’t want seconds?”
No. 1 Son: “I didn’t want firsts. Did Dad cook this?”
Dad (bristling): “Yeah, what about it?”
Mom: “It’s very good. Eat it.”
No. 1 Son: “Sucks.”
Dad: “Where did the other one go?”
Mom: “He excused himself to go watch TV.”
Dad: “You think he tastes anything when he eats that fast?”
No. 1 Son: “I hope not, for his sake.”
Mom: “You’re excused, too.”
No. 1 Son departs, grumbling.
Mom: “Alone at last. That seemed to go well.”
Dad: “Another successful family dinner. Is it hot in here?”
Steve Brewer is the author of CUTTHROAT and 15 other books. Read more of his columns at stevebrewer.blogspot.com.
