Sunday, February 19, 2012

Dinner Time!

It seems like we're always hearing about how important it is to have dinner together, as a family, as often as possible. Mental health professionals. Medical Professionals. Religious Leaders. They all say it.  It teaches children manners. It encourages healthy eating habits. It leads to family conversation, and encourages overall bonding within the family. The funny thing is, I don't think any of the professionals who recommend this have ever eaten with us as a family. In fact, I'm sure they haven't. I, however,  have eaten dinner with my family many times, and I most certainly do not recommend it. Maybe I should invite our pediatrician over for dinner, and then ask him, as he's wiping mashed potatoes off his glasses, if he still thinks it's such a great idea for us all to all eat together as often as possible. Maybe I should ask our priest to come over for dinner, and ask him, as B is repeatedly offering him beer or telling him how itchy his bum is, if he thinks it's a good idea for us to eat together. Something tells me, though, that they would find a reason not to come. After all, they haven't eaten with us, but they have met us. Several times.

In theory, eating together is a great idea. We actually do eat together more nights than not in our house. For some reason, though, it's not quite the joyful experience all of those professionals would have us believe. Maybe some day, it will help NBO learn manners , but right now it's usually just a display of how horrendous their manners actually are. Well that's an opportunity for parents to teach them better manners. Yeah. Of course it is. N is six-and-a-half. Six-and-a-half-year-olds should not still be eating with their fingers, and we should be cracking down on this. And we do. Until we are distracted by flying broccoli and spraying milk, at which point the fact that our six-year-old is eating with her fingers suddenly becomes a very minor issue. At least she is eating, unlike her three-year-old brother, who is alternately blowing bubbles in his milk and spitting the milk out of his mouth to see how high of a fountain he can make. Well that's an opportunity to teach him that that is just unacceptable. Yes. Of course it is. And we do. Well, we try to.

Recently, if B is playing with his food instead of eating it, we started removing his dinner. At which point he lays on the kitchen floor and screams, because he's three, and three-year-olds are particularly good at that. We ignore him, because we are his parents, and we are getting particularly good at that. We continue to eat. We remind N to use a fork. We make sure O's food is broken up into small pieces. We  try to ignore the fact that B is now standing up and, since he has no food of his own to play with, is now playing with the dog food. We ignore it until he starts throwing the dog food, and a piece lands in N's milk. This must be secret brother code for "Let the games being", because at almost the same moment, O grabs handfuls of broccoli and throws them up into the air. Clearly, we can no longer ignore this. Thinking maybe we still have a chance with O--after all, he's not two yet--Jimmy and I both give him a firm "No!". He drops the rest of the broccoli. He stares at Jimmy. He stares at me. He looks at N, and then turns and looks at B. He picks up more broccoli, aims for N's cup that has the dog food in it, and as he throws it in, he laughs at us.

Clearly, our family dinners are not doing anything for their table manners. Maybe at least it will help their conversation skills. They do communicate with one another more at the dinner table than at other times of the day. In fact, N will usually talk to B several times when we're eating dinner. Some examples of the sweet sisterly things she says to him include: "Move over. Stop touching me. Don't breathe on my food. Get away from my milk". And, because she is such a thoughtful sister, she wants to make sure Jimmy and I are involved with him, too. "Mom, look what he's doing. Dad, did you hear him? Mom! Did you see that piece of chicken land in your wine water?" At least they are learning that minor distractions don't have to completely end a conversation. I have taught them this by example, with phrases like "How was school today--get that carrot off of your brother's head right now, sit in your seat, and drink your milk--do you have much homework?"

I don't know what our children will ultimately gain from all of us eating dinner together. Maybe it will help B with his aim if he decides to play basketball. It will probably help N if she decides to be a secret agent and needs to keep track of what everyone around her is doing at every moment. Perhaps it will help O continue to develop the charm he seems to already use to diffuse potentially stressful situations. I do know that Jimmy and I have bonded more over these dinners, though. In the difficult moments--as someone is throwing broccoli or spitting milk, and the recipient of the broccoli and/or milk is screaming and/or returning fire--we often share the kind of look that only takes place between couples who have been married for a long time. The kind of look that says, We're in this together. The kind of look that says, We wanted this, remember? The kind of look that says, Will you go get us another drink, or will I?

1 comment:

  1. at least you're offering up broccoli, milk, and wine...really, what more could a pediatrician or priest ask for...all thier favorite things really

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