Mealtime Practices

Ahhh, dinnertime. That joyous time when we gather together to eat a meal and enjoy the company of our family. Or is it the chaotic time when I throw some food on the table, beg my children to eat it, and then plead with them to use silverware and eat with their mouths closed? Maybe it's a little of both.

All of the statistics say wonderful things about families who eat together (particularly around a table in their own home). What do they say again? The family who eats together stays together? 4 out of 5 children who grow up in a home where they meet together for meals at least 3 times a week grow up to be well-adjusted, emotionally stable, college educated, financially viable people? Yeah, that's the statistic I like, I could swear I read that one in Ladies Home Journal the other day. Anyway, whatever it says, it makes me feel smug as a parent - cooking meals, gathering the family and sitting down to pray over our food.

But then the smugness evaporates as my 9-year-old insists on using his fingers to eat everything from applesauce to spaghetti, my 3 and 5-year-olds pick at their food like birds only to beg for dessert and complain about how starving they are five minutes after the table is cleared, and my 7-year-old makes every sort of obnoxious noise known to man during the course of the meal. (If you've ever seen Dumb and Dumber - the most annoying sound in the world, my boy's got it down!)

I once heard a man talk about how at their dinner table he and his siblings' goal was to get their parents laughing so hard that milk shot out of their noses. While disgusting, it made me think. What if this goal I have of raising my children to be polite and proper at the dinner table is stifling their inner comedian? What if we're missing out on laughter and fun, all in the name of a peaceful atmosphere to digest our food?

This is another place where I like to blame mom and dad for my confusion. I remember the casual atmosphere of mom's little round table for three. We were expected to eat with our mouths closed, but other than that I don't remember being corrected or prodded in any way. We ate Steak-ums with relish, talked and goofed off.

At dad's formal dining room table we were to eat quietly, with mouths closed (I am thankful for that suggestion), elbows off the table, napkins in our lap all while trying every strange and exotic food they put before us. (I remember sushi and seaweed before it was "cool" to eat.) At dad's it got to the point that we assumed they plotted and planned a new ridiculous rule for each weekend visit. Seriously, how many rules can you come up with to torment a child? Of course, now I understand a little better.

And I am glad that if I were invited to the White House I would go in pretty well prepared, etiquette wise. That's a useful skill, I think.

But is it so useful that I need to torment my children in the same way? Should we allow Lukas to collapse to the floor in giggles because he tooted again? Should we let Gabe try out every new noise on the family to see which one gets the best reaction? And how important is it really, that my little ones actually consume the food I put before them? Okay, that last one might not be optional.

So what do I choose, or will it choose me? As our children age and their personalities become even more irrepressible, will they guide our mealtime rituals for us? Maybe some day Gabe's noises will cause fluids to eject from our bodies, and maybe, just maybe, Lukas will be using a fork when it happens.