table talk

In some cultures, the time is sacred.
Sobremesa, for example, in Spain -- loosely translated, it's the after meal, a short time for relaxing, chatting around piles of empty plates and refilled drinks. Time for digesting food, and ideas.

We don't encourage it often enough here, normally sending one child off to practice the piano and another to put together puzzles and the third to help clear plates. And that's assuming Andy's home for dinner in the first place.

Lately, we've tried to postpone the rushed after-dinner routine with our boys.
We want them to learn to honor the fine art of lingering, so we've left the forks and listened to the knock knock jokes. Amid the meal wreckage - crumpled napkins and corn chip crumbs - we've discussed supreme court justices and shoulder surgery, properties of copper and Zelda castles. We want them to know that the topic can go anywhere, that the words will not go beyond our walls.

While we're still trying to discourage things like elbows (and feet) on the table, we are reminded that we belong around it, that we belong to each other. We know the boys will keep eating, and we want them to keep talking, too.