When you spend the majority of your conscious day working for the man, you look forward to the solace of your own abode and the compassion of your family unit. It’s easy to lose sight of the comings and goings and daily happenings around the house when you are chained to a desk. It’s no different in my house. Coming home from the office always presents and interesting set of daily circumstances. Will I lose my patience with a driver who seems to have lost his or her ever-loving mind? Will I speed down a suburban street ‘above’ the speed limit only to have a local yahoo on a motorcycle chase me to my house, pound on my front door, and scold my wife in to lecturing me about posted speed limits? Or, will I enter the house only to hear the siren-like screaming of children being firmly, but parentally, accosted by their mother for the latest in disorderly conduct?

Typically, it is the latter of the list above.

I like dinner. My kids like dinner. My wife, I think, likes dinner. The problems lie on both sides of the dinner equation. For the parents, it’s the patience required to prepare the dinner. On the kids’ side, it’s the patience required to wait for the dinner to be prepared and the ability to outlast the parents when the dinner is not to their expectations. The stage has been set, dinner is on the table, now for the drama.

Son #2 used to eat everything we put in front of him. If you recall from previous posts, he skipped the bottle and baby food phases of development. He likes adult sustenance. Well, he did until recently. Son #2 believes, or at least I’m interpreting the screams as this, that it’s his God given right to eat cupcakes and crackers for dinner. He used to like meat and veggies. Now, it’s fish crackers and confectionary goodness followed by a glass of soy milk. Unfortunately for him, and my ears, this isn’t an acceptable meal. Let the screaming and arm waving begin.



Son #1 is a different breed. He has developed a liking for certain food products. And by that, I mean two specific items. The first being French fries, nondescript fried potato goodness. They can be crinkle cut, shoe strings, or tater tots. The second food of preference is chicken of the crispy outer covering variety. According to Son #1, this is how chicken naturally occurs in the universe. Apparently, we have visited KFC a few too many times. No matter how many times I try to explain that chicken exists in many other forms, some much more healthfully than others, he denies my culinary claims.



We don’t eat cupcakes and crispy chicken every night so you can tell there are 'disagreements' at the dinner table.

Because of such differences in opinion and the heated conversations which occur while seated at our table, I’ve devised a way to make this experience much more enjoyable. A drinking game.

Each time that Son #2 throws a veggie on the floor, points toward the cookie dish, and exclaims, “Cup,” we drink. Each time Son #1 asks the food related question, “Have I had this type of chicken before?” we truthfully answer, “Yes,” and he then retorts with an enthusiastic, “No I haven’t!” we drink. It functions on the same premise of the Sarah Palin drinking game. Each time she utters the word “maverick” a player takes a swig. Simple rules, just like Palin, for a simple game.

An unsuccessful dinner will ALWAYS lead to a successful drunk. Feel free to modify these rules to fit your household.

In all seriousness, we have defiance and crying at the dinner table. And typically, it comes from all four members of my family. Have we have created a little bit of this defiance and reactionary behavior by the way we portray ourselves? There’s a little nature here where the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But I think nurture might be heavily outweighing it in this instance. I’ve been thinking lately about how much children attempt to emulate their parents.

Think about it. How many times have you watch little Johnny pick up the phone, place it to his ear, and pretend to talk? We all think that it’s cute. Son #2 does it and we pretend he is calling his grandmother. But the reality is that he learned this from observing us. Why would dinner behavior be any different? I’m concerned that when we discipline our children, we raise our voices, especially if at first shot they don’t listen. They’re learning that it’s acceptable to raise their voices. I can’t help but wonder, are we raising our voices too often at our children? At times during dinner, it feels like it’s a no win game.

Most times, dinner is full of humor. It’s the occasional circumstance like the other night which paints a negative picture. Arguing about eating, timeouts, and early bed times are sometimes necessary but still sting afterward just the same. I love my two boys and need to remember to reflect back on my resolutions as well as how I like to be treated as a person and project that on to them.

Until then, the drinking game is a great idea. Here's to college and everything I learned there. Bottoms up!