Experts often tout the importance of family dinner, claiming that children who share meals with their parents each night grow up smarter, more compassionate, and even more likely to achieve success in life. It sounds great in theory, but there’s just one little problem: I’m not a fan of family dinners.
My kids, Lucy and Mia, operate on a schedule that’s more suited to early birds, which means we often have dinner together before their dad arrives home from work. Most evenings feel like a struggle. With two picky eaters, planning meals can be a source of constant stress. And honestly, cooking is not my idea of fun.
As soon as we sit down to eat, I transform into a grumpy version of myself, nagging them to sit up straight and stop playing with their food. Sometimes they actually eat, but more often than not, they end up using their dinner as art supplies—smeared hummus in their hair and yogurt strategically placed on the chair cushions. Inevitably, they break into silly songs they learned at camp, like their current favorite: “Giraffe, Elephant, Giraffe, Giraffe, Elephant, Evil Mr. Coconut turned into a banana tree!” (Seriously?) I appreciate their creativity, but at the dinner table, I struggle to maintain my sanity. Halfway through, I find myself reminding them that we don’t sing at the table, then I escape to the kitchen, scrubbing dishes in a passive-aggressive fashion.
When I vented my frustrations to my therapist, I expected her to echo the importance of family dinners and suggest ways to improve the situation. Instead, she offered a refreshing perspective: “Forget about family dinner. Let it go.” She explained that the essence of family time is not necessarily about sharing a meal but creating a ritual where we connect regularly. It’s about listening to one another without distractions, not about enforcing a rigid routine.
Well, that was a revelation! I realized I could bond with my kids in other ways. We could read together, color, chat during our car rides to school, sing songs, and snuggle at bedtime. Even breakfast could be our time together (after all, coffee works wonders).
So, I’ve decided to embrace a more flexible approach to family dinner. I still make sure my kids are fed every night (yep, that’s a commitment), and sometimes I join them. Other nights, we grab our colorful plates and head to the porch where they munch on nuggets while playing outside and chatting with neighbors. Some evenings, I tidy up while they eat, which helps me keep my cool. On others, I read to them while they enjoy their meals; one week, we even made it through the entire American Girl Catalog, which was far less stressful than listening to their squabbling.
Now that I’ve let go of the conventional family dinner, I can’t say for certain if my kids will end up attending an Ivy League school. However, I feel much more confident that we’ll all make it to their 18th birthdays, happy and healthy.
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Summary:
In her candid reflection, Emma Thornton shares her struggles with the traditional family dinner concept, revealing how she discovered the importance of connection over rigid routines. By embracing flexibility in mealtimes and finding alternative ways to bond with her children, she ultimately creates a happier family atmosphere.