Can You Call It Dinner if You Don’t Eat?
It’s a vague memory, but I can still remember when my husband and I used to have dinner and actually carry on a full conversation. Of course, at the time, we did not have an occupied highchair and booster seat at the table. Occupied by professional Dinner Time Distracters whose missions are a) create the largest zone of destruction by the end of dinner; b) thwart all attempts at any independent being completing a full thought; and c) distract others from actually eating at meal times.
Our typical dinner goes something like this.
“So, remember when I told you that Julie…”
“Excoose me! Excoose me! Mama! Excoose me!”
“Yes, Elise?”
“My boo-boo’s not hurting right now.”
“That’s great….right, so, Julie mentioned…”
“Excoose me! Mama! Excoose me!” (She’s tapping my hand. A hand that wants to deliver a forkful of food into my mouth at some point.)
“What, Elise?”
“The President is Aunt Juner.”
“Aunt Juner???”
“Aunt Juner in Texas.”
“George Bush?”
“No, JU-NURSE. ANJU-NURSE”.
“Andrew Jackson?”
“Yes. ANJU-NURT”
“Andrew Nurt? President of what?”
“Yes. ANJU-NURT! President!”
“Is he related to Obama?”
“No!”
“Okay, great, so, Julie had given me feedback on….”
“Daddy! Excoose me! Excoose me, Daddy!”
“Elise! You can’t keep interrupting unless you have something important to say. What do you want to say?”
“You’re talking too much. You made me forgot what I was thinking about.”
Then the baby throws his bowl of food at my face.
Then Elise knocks over her cup of milk as she turns her head (can’t seem to independently turn head without turning body yet) to look at my food face.
Then the beast cat starts to make a bold move for the serving plate on the table.
SOCKS!!!!
Suddenly, dinner’s over. Baby needs to go to bed. Child needs her bath.
And I’m still hungry.
And totally just forgot what I was saying.
Oh, yeah. I’m hungry. I think.
