No, I don’t mean confessing that I’ve barely cooked dinner the last few nights, despite loving to cook (which, cough, may or may not be true, cough). I mean a different kind of dinnertime confessions.
We’ve been doing “family dinner” for a while now. And while sometimes (OFTEN!), it is quite the scramble to get a hot meal on the table at 5:45pm after a full day of work, it is always worth it. The past few days Benjamin has been away on a trip so it has just been Owen and I (hence the little to no cooking). We sit at the barstools in the kitchen instead of in our dining room and chat.
It is HILARIOUS to “chat” with a 2 year old.
Over the last few days during our one-on-one gossip sessions, I’ve gotten to hear all kinds of dirt. “Carter had cereal for breakfast.” “Caleb’s mommy has a baby in her belly!”. “I pushed Tristan on the playground today.” “I got a sticker from the sign language teacher. Do you know the sign for butterfly, Mommy? It’s like dis.” “Look – green beans on my fingers!” “My plate is purple. Corin LOVES purple.” “After dinner can you play with me upstairs?” “Old McDonald had a farm…” “Can we set up a playdate at Keira’s house? She has lots of toys? We should ask her Mommy.”
I jump in and ask questions and respond to each statement. We actually converse. It’s amazing. He answers questions so honestly and matter-of-factly, it just kills me. The other day at school, for the first time IN HIS ENTIRE LIFE (I think), he didn’t nap. Like, not at all. When he got home I asked him, “Why didn’t you nap today, buddy? What were you doing instead of napping?”. “Talkin’ to Tristan”. Ha. At least he’s honest.
These little dinnertime chats have become my favorite part of the day. I love hearing what things he remembers to tell me, or the questions he asks. The questions are so honest and so brilliant and such a glimpse into the fascinating world of the two year old brain. This morning on our walk to school he noticed a certain dog (who usually barks at us) wasn’t outside. I said he was probably still sleeping. Owen asked, “He has a night light?”. I told him no, I didn’t think the dog had a night light, but that I didn’t really know the answer. “He has a lovey?”. I told him maybe. Maybe that dog has a lovey.
I hope this is the beginning of many, many family dinners where my kids tell me everything on their minds. (Ha. In a few more years? Not likely…).