Plans for the fancy dinner party on Sunday evening are progressing nicely. The menu has been finalized to the delight of some and the not-so-much-delight of others. My son is somewhat disgusted at the fact that you don’t just get to take a pass on the stuff you’re not real fond of and that you don’t get to have seconds and thirds of the stuff you really like.
Last night we had a conversation about some of the rules of etiquette that never get followed at our dinner table. Like only conversing with the people on your left and right rather than having a conversation with someone on the other end of the table from you. Steve and Jon had way too much fun mocking the rules.
Today there will be no utensils used at the dinner table. There will be a sad lack of napkin usage and taco juice will run rampant down faces and arms. Dinner will be a bunch of messy food intended to be eaten with your hands. Cheese and lettuce will fall willy-nilly from taco shells and I will be happy that at least some of it will land on a plate rather than the table or floor. I will not beg him to eat more slowly lest he choke to death. I will bite my tongue til it bleeds when my son laughs and talks loudly with his mouth full of food. I will make no comment on the appropriateness of jokes or question whether certain topics are fit for the dinner table.
I will just enjoy his boyish joie de vivre. I will be grateful he is happy and laughing rather than sullen and sulking (he is a teenasser after all). I will view his voracious taco eating as a silent compliment of my mad taco cooking skills. In short, I will just smile.
Why will I do this? Because today is my son’s 17th birthday and I love him.
Also, because I know on that on Sunday he will be tortured for several hours at our fancy dinner party. If you’re interested in the dinner party planning details you can read all about it on my cooking blog.
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