Why Family Dinner Can Bite Me
Ah…Family Dinner. The idyllic time spent around the dinner table sharing tidbits about our day, sampling nutritious fare and warding off all the evils of childhood. Did you know if you do Family Dinner your kids won’t do drugs/lie/cheat/be slutty/ or otherwise tarnish the family name? If Parenting magazine writes enough articles about it, it must be true, right?
But I’m beginning to suspect that we might not be getting a net benefit from our Family Dinners, and here’s why:
- In order to make a decent meal, I’m forced to banish the midgets from the kitchen. Nothing warm and fuzzy about that.
- The only dependable way to keep them away is tv. Tell me how watching Handy Manny out-macho Mr. Lopart again and again is good for anyone?
- The emotional highs and lows of plate selection will certainly be paving our road to the nearest therapist’s office.
- Rather than a lively discussion about our respective days, the conversation quickly devolves into a negotiation of how many bites are needed to earn more milk/applesauce etc.
- The phrase “now feel my muscles!” lost its cuteness about 37 FD’s ago. Especially when the muscle mass is purported to have come from merely touching a piece of broccoli to one’s lips.
- Busting ass to put the damn meal together only to hear a 3 year old say, “I’m not a big fan of this meat, mom,” is less than awesome.
Don’t worry, though, FD will still happen around here fairly often for one very good reason:
Not having to cook again after bedtime kicks ass.
Filed under: Uncategorized | 2 Comments