Table Manners

The family meal. One of the great traditions of our culture that is being swept away by the McDonald’s drive-through and widescreen TVs. But in our family, this tradition is alive and well, mostly because we don’t have a widescreen TV and the closest McDonald’s is twenty minutes away.

I think that the best part of the family dinner is that it provides an ideal time for Art and I to instill good table manners in our darling little offspring. Such important social skills as which fork to use (yours, not Daddy’s or the one you found under the couch), how to hold your cup (right side up is the preferred method), and how to carry on a pleasant dinner conversation (no potty stories is a good start) are easily taught while sharing a delightful meal around the dining room table.

Recently Art has been reading Little House in the Big Woods to the boys. They love it. Their favorite part was where Pa butchered the hog and Laura and Mary played with the bladder like a balloon.

“What’s a bladder, Daddy?”

“It’s where your pee goes until you go potty.”

This pronouncement was followed by a predictable fit of laughter  from my children who find all things potty-related to be incredibly funny.

But I digress. To me the most fascinating part of the Little House series is seeing how different our expectations of children are from what they were 150 years ago. Including at the table. “Children should be seen and not heard” was the rule, and it was adhered to very closely.

Art and I have discussed how nice this would be in between breaking up arguments, answering questions, and frequent reminders to our progeny not to toot at the dinner table. This conversation, in addition to every other dinner conversation with our children in the same room, took ten minutes and included two sentences from each of us regarding the actual topic at hand.

I suppose we could teach our children to be silent at dinner. But since it’s really hard for a five year old to eat with his mouth taped shut, it’s not really a reasonable expectation. My children inherited my own obsessive need to communicate, and although it does get frustrating to hear the intricate details of what Ryan’s friend Pierce did last night, I truly believe that my sons’ talkativeness and inquisitiveness is a gift. Besides, there’s no way I could be like Caroline Ingalls (Ma in Little House), so why should I expect my kids to act like her kids? One time of Art butchering a pig, handing me the brain, and saying “here, woman, make head cheese,” and I would be so finished.

Which brings me to the actual point of my blog today. Yes, as a matter of fact, I have typed 474 words without actually reaching my point. It’s my blog. You don’t like it, fine. But read it anyway. It makes me happy when people read my blog.

I’m pretty sure that last night several of my female ancestors sat up in their graves and disowned me. Because last night, at our sacred family table, I did the unthinkable. I, the Princess of Something, mother and teacher of my young impressionable children, played with my food. Not only did I play with my food, I encouraged my children to play with their food.

Here follows the pictorial evidence of my great depravity and the way in which I led my children down the same path. I am so ashamed.

It started with me putting grapes inside my glasses for the sole purpose of making my children laugh.

img_6163.jpg

Soon Ryan was following my example (I’m so ashamed!).

img_6160.jpg

Sam, not having glasses (yet, anyway), found a different place to put his grape.

img_6176.jpg

Which inspired Ryan to do the same.

img_6177.jpg

Then Art had a brilliant idea.

img_6170.jpg

It is such a blessing to see my children following in the footsteps of this amazing man.

img_6165.jpg

img_6167.jpg

I think my boys and my husband are so lucky to have a woman in their lives who is as mature, sophisticated, and beautiful as I am.

img_6173.jpg

And yes, those grapes did actually fit into my nostrils.  My mother will be so proud.

Sometimes laughter is more important to family life than perfect table manners.

Advertisements

13 thoughts on “Table Manners

  1. So now we’re all waiting for the blog about the trip to the emergency room that is bound to happen because poor Sammy thinks it’s okay to put small objects in his ears and nose. I can totally see the doctor asking him why he put {insert small object here} into his nose, and Sammy saying, “My mommy taught me how”. 😉

  2. Now I’m imagining what Pa Ingalls would look like with grapes in his nose!! 🙂 Fun pics and loved the blog entry.

  3. laughter is ALWAYS more important than perfect table manners!! i have to say the ones behind the glasses freaked me out and made me gasp, however i laughed until it hurt and i sooo needed that today.

  4. Great photos! That is hilarious. Just don’t let them do it with soy beans. (they swell and get stuck) I guess thats common around here (where pa Ingalls is from)… I’m only a stones throw from Walnut Grove.

    Love the blog!

  5. Bahahahaha! Genius! You know, I’m 29, and the word “toot” you used still makes me giggle.

    And can I just say that I think I am unable to kill a pig, let alone butcher one, so there is no fear of me making you make head cheese. This is why God invented the Meat Dept. at grocery stores: so guys like me can avoid the unpleasant task of gutting animals and can use all that free to read books, or to study, or to go on pleasant nature walks instead of hunting and gathering.

    Bleck.

  6. Pingback: I Like Big Words . . . « Notes from the Princess

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: