Growing up, my Dad always wanted us to eat dinner together. Never could figure out why, since it seemed like all he did was fuss at us and tell us to be quiet. To this day, the man can't eat a meal unless you can hear crickets chirping in the background.
Plus, we had one of those booth type things, where we would all climb in and Pop would be at the end of the table, sitting in the only chair available.
I figured out the booth: if we were all packed in, there was no possibility of a random runaway from the table: we were in there until EVERYBODY was done. That I get: most nights, Rakes is up and down from the bar about as often as Joe Torre is waving to the bullpen. Not to mention when one of our neighbors rings the doorbell while we are trying to eat: usually that doesn't bother me. I'm more relieved over the fact Rakes or Trot hasn't defaced someone's home than I am bothered they interrupted dinner.
It's the being quiet I can't quite get: dinner time is when I hear about Ciera's first day of 4th grade (she loves it) or Rakes telling me, 500 times in a row, how "tool it bas to swing on the playset today". Trot doesn't quite talk yet, but by his grunts, points, and screams, I figure he had a pretty good day as well.
Dinner is also usually the point in the day where I get the rundown from Ang on who did what to whom and when, plus the daily "What damage did they cause to the house today?" report. Point is, hearing my kids laugh and giggle and tell about their day is one of my highlights.
Sure, some nights I'd rather read SI while I eat, or pretend I'm at some high class restaurant, or daydream about that trade of Kyle Snyder for Albert Pujols I've convinced myself would work, but I wouldn't trade dinner time for anything.
Well, maybe Pujols, but that's not happening, so why torture myself?
Life doesn't happen in big huge events: it happens when you eat dinner, or sit on the front porch swing, or spend 30 minutes listening to Hillary Duff. Sure, your ears or sanity may not ever be the same again, but you learn a lot about what makes a 9 year old girl tick.
I hope I never lose sight of the magic that takes place in the simple things: if I ever take for granted the few minutes a day where a life long memory is made, they should take away my Dad card for life.
Speaking of which, the Yankees lost 16-0 to the Tigers tonight: it's an 8 game lead going into the three game series tomorrow.
If that's not a life long memory, I don't know what is.