I was online yesterday reading about the demise of habitual family dinners. The topic is fertile ground for lots of newsprint from parenting magazines to healthy habit columns or major media circuits everybody chimes in to say, and I’m paraphrasing here, that families are closer, smarter, and healthier when we eat together.
I’m a card carrying member of the family dinner club. Geography works in my favor there. My drive time around town would never, ever be considered a commute. My extended family lives 'round these parts.
Just because we eat together doesn’t mean there’s some idyllic scene at the table with smiling faces and linen napkins. Sometimes the one-meal-that-everyone-would-eat plan is a flop. Sometimes it’s a nagging list rather than a true conversation at the table (“Have you finished your homework?” “The recycling needs to go out tonight.” “Is my Hermonie Granger costume washed?”). Sometimes we openly bicker to be honest. Last night was case and point of that, actually. But the next dinner offers up the opportunity things to smooth things over let it lighten up a little. Family dinners get better with practice.
I'm a believer in sitting down together and letting the evening roll out however it has to. That your seat at that table isn't contingent on being perfect or even particularly well behaved. Would I like you to eat your peas? Yes. Would I like to laugh a lot and have meaningful conversations at every turn? Sure. But like a lot of things family dinners are matter of showing up.
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Quote of My Day: "Hey, kitchen floor, I'll clean ya when I can clean ya. Quit yelling at me! Jerk." (Thanks, Lys)
Currently Reading: Lake Shore Limited by Sue Miller
Jonesin' For: A Long Bike Ride
Good News: My brother and his wife Jen welcomed Stefan Alexander into the world this morning.
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