Family Life

Ahh! It’s Friday, it’s sunny and warm, it’s Spring! What a wonderful afternoon to spend in the yard, enjoying the cool, gentle breeze, listening to birds chatter in the trees. I went out with my camera and tripod to get some pictures of the trees newly budded. From time to time clouds would pass before the sun, and I had to stand and wait for it to get sunny again. The clouds weren’t in a hurry and neither was I. Not that taking pictures of the yard is all that strenuous. After all, the trees aren’t going anywhere. But I was just as happy to stand there and enjoy the calm.

Joel came out to see me two or three times, to see what I was doing, to keep me company, to tell me dinner was ready. I watched his little legs pumping madly as he dashed across the lawn, and decided I was quite happy to stay fixed in one spot, thank you very much. For the briefest of moments I considered telling Joel I would stay outside and the rest of the family could go ahead without me. But I’m a parent. I have responsibilities. So I went inside to finish setting the table and round up the kids to eat.

Once we were all sitting at our food the normal table conversation started with its usual vigor. This consisted of wife and children all competing to tell me how their day went. We try to train the boys to wait their turn and speak one at a time, but often it works out to be four people talking at me while I smile and nod. My occasional contributions to the conversation consist of,

- “Daniel, take another mouthful.”

- “Joel, put that drink down and eat something instead.”

- “No Daniel, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

- “Uh-huh, Micah … I see … Is that right?”

While casting furtive glances at Debbie: Do you have any idea what he’s saying? Micah (2) can be quite clear in his conversation, but once he picks up speed he’ll yammer through an entire discourse and we won’t have understood a word he’s said.

Adult conversation with Debbie is futile. Table talk at dinner time is the Twitter of the conversational realm. If you can’t get your meaning across in six words or less, you don’t stand a chance. It’s like white-water rafting: you paddle for dear life and try not to drown. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Dinner conversation is at the heart of our family life, the anchor of the day.

Now the boys are in bed, the dishes put away, some afternoon photos processed, this post mostly finished, and it’s ten o’clock at night. Time to start thinking about going to bed.

Ahh, but the bliss of that calm half-hour before dinner, alone, under the sun and sky…

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