I Give Up

Both my kids were in bed before 7pm tonight. I knew ahead of time that Pumpkin would be tired. Camp does a great job at using up every last scrap of her energy, which is good, except for me, who has a few daylight hours of Pumpkin left between picking her up and tucking her in. These are typically playful hours, peppered with moments of psychological warfare. Chichi is either reacting to Monday's vaccination, or she has a genuine cold obtained by chewing on a toy in the doctor's office. Why must medical health practicioners keep bacteria laden crap on the floor in their waiting rooms? Anyhow, despite my children's ill tempers, I decided that I would aim for us to all eat together tonight. In all honesty, we don't usually all sit together nor do we all eat the same thing. When I can get us all fed early enough, and when dinner is suitable for eaters of all ages, I give the family dinner a try. Whatever book I read on the subject said that everyone should be served the same thing, provided that there is at least one sure thing on the table that the picky eaters will eat. Chichi whined all through dinner, occasionally popping a piece of cheese in her mouth. Pumpkin whined, threw her rice on the floor, cried that the chicken was 'scary', and shrieked when I took her food away. This is why both kids ended up in bed before 7. Not all family dinner attempts go this badly, but none can ever be described as enjoyable. This brings me to my point. To the news media, who threaten us with inevitable drug abuse by our kids if we don't have a family meal; to nutritionists, who scare us into desperately trying to get our kids to consume the correct number of food groups; to any other parent that I've ever spoken with who was all smug about how THEIR family always eats together, and how THEIR kids enjoy lentils and broccoli, YOU CAN ALL KISS MY ASS!!!!!! It's chicken nuggets and fries from here on in! The grown-up can eat whatever they find in the freezer once the kids are knocked out for the night. The end.