Dinner Table Chatter

Yesterday evening, I was sitting at the dinner table watching my daughter struggling to cut her meat. We’ve been through the tutorials on this matter many times, so I was in no rush to intervene. After many fruitless attempts, she decided to give up on the process.

“Are you going to be 30 years old and still not able to cut your food?” I asked. “Yep, I guess so,” she replied unbothered. “Well, that’s assuming you get married,” I teased. “After all, your future dates are going to think it mighty odd if you are not able to properly eat like a normal adult.” She thought for a moment and then replied, “I’ll just order a burger and fries on my dates. I won’t be the girl who orders steaks!” She said this as if she was proud at the thought of being a cheap date.

I laughed and continued to press her. “What if he takes you to a really fancy restaurant that doesn’t serve burgers and fries? What then?” She paused and said “Well, I just won’t eat meat!”

My daughter fancies herself to be very clever, so I wanted to see if I could get her to admit that learning how to cut her food would be a necessary requirement in life. “So, if you skate through the dating process, what’s next? You’re never going to eat meat again in front of your husband? What about your children? What if they need help?” She continued to insist that she would handle it, so I dropped the subject. A few minutes later, I noticed her grabbing the knife again and giving it another go.

As she awkwardly handled her utensils, I decided to stop nagging and patiently gave her encouragement at the slightest improvements on her cutting techniques. She soon got the hang of it and miraculously had a plate full of decently cut meat. I praised her perseverance.

We soon moved on to talking about her love of writing and what she wanted to be when she grew up. We talked about college and careers. I told her I wouldn’t be mad if she decided not to go to college like I did. Frankly, I sometimes question that decision myself as I face down massive student loan debts. I did insist that she at least have a plan. Trade school, a certificate program, something that would at least ensure her a decent, stable wage. “There are many people out there struggling to pay bills, working for minimum wage at fast food restaurants,” I told her. I wanted her to have more choices. She told me she might go to college and still work at McDonald’s or Chick-Fil-A afterwards. According to her logic, people who work there must make a lot of money because those places are always busy.

The conversation turned back to writing and she said she hoped to get a book published that would make a lot of money. She would then buy us all a mansion, as long as she could live in it. She asked me what I would say if that happened. I told her I would say “thank you Jesus!!” With the most serious look on her face, she said that I could thank Jesus, but I should really be thanking her. “Very true,” I said with a smile.

I’m sure she didn’t realize it, but I really did cherish that conversation. It wasn’t deep or life changing, but it was us talking about life and stuff, one on one. As the oldest, she sometimes falls by the wayside as I care for her two younger brothers. And I find myself nagging her about chores more than listening to her thoughts. I suddenly realized how fast she is growing up. One day, she will be a moody teenager who doesn’t have time for such talks with her mother.

As we cleaned up the dinner table, I told her to hone up her writing skills and get that book published. She could be the next J.K. Rowling, after all. Besides, I have a souped up Mustang waiting to be driven through Beverly Hills on the way to our family compound. And I’ll be sure to thank the good Lord, I mean my daughter, for my blessings.

Featured image by storebukkebruse