Lunch With Children
# 2
July 17th 1958
If you can't fight 'em, join 'em. Now here's a policy that applies very naturally to the situation known as Lunch with the Children.
There area few ground rules to be observed in having lunch with toddlers and semi-toddlers. First of all, resign yourself that it is not going to be your peaceful meal. Make that one breakfast—have it alone even though the bedrooms fall apart with bedlam. And dinner—well, on that one you don't go it alone. After all, the Father of the family is there to help cut up the chops and butter the potatoes all around.
So, at lunchtime, don't expect any peace. With all the milk spilling, spoon dropping, arm waving and stimulating (?) conversation, there won't be much.
Now that you've settled on that, join 'em. With a little practice you can bite a peephole in your toast with -the best of them. Or eat around a sandwich to make a lion, with fringe. In our house, I can march those animal cookies around like nobody's business. Why, I'm getting. a reputation for being the best bear growler in the neighborhood.
Then, there's the matter of lunch itself. Here, retain your authority. You choose what everybody will have to eat. Otherwise, you'll have as many choices as you have mouths around the table.
Next, you'd better. eat what the kiddies do. If they're having popcorn, pink lemonade and raisins, you'd better have it, too. Noodle soup and peanut butter bread are very nutritious, too, you know, and will keep you energetic all afternoon. Look at the children they seem to be brimming over with vim and vip from those very things!
Speaking of noodle soup, and other kinds, to time out for a
helpful hint when you make it for the little ones, heat the can of soup undiluted. It's easier for them to eat. Add a little water to your own after theirs is served.
To get back to the lunch don't try to sneak in a turkey sandwich and that one piece of leftover angel food cake. You'll have to divide it to the point where there's nothing left for yourself. And it'll be all gobbled up while, you make a second sandwich, which will, in its turn, have to be divided. You'll end up eating all that soup and peanut butter, because they'll be too full of your turkey sandwiches and angel food cake to eat THEIR lunch.
Now, once you're eating, you can turn your attention to the conversation. At lunchtime, the children have you trapped behind a spoon and you have to stay put while they put out with the questions. It's a good rule here to fortify yourself with a cup of coffee while everybody's still in the sandpile. It'll make you more alert to meet the quiz challenge head on.
Take a few examples from the Harnett Homestead. Mary Margaret takes the storybook tales seriously. She thinks and thinks about them and comes up with a few mysteries.
For ' instance, there's Black Sambo and the tigers that ran round and round end turned to butter. A typical luncheon conversation goes like this:
Mary: "The yellow part of the tigers turned to butter, didn't it?"
Me: "Of course."
Mary: "But the black part didn't."
Me: (It shouldn't have, but this took me by surprise. So, from me "Grunt, gunt." (Interpreted as "no.")
Mary: "Well, then what did the black part turn into?"
Me: (I'd had that coffee and 4 clever little answer rolled right off.) "Well, I think it turned into rope to tie up the' butter."
Mary: "I don't think so. I think the black part turned into the jugs Black Sambo's father put the butter in."
So why did she ask me, 'I wondered.
Close on the heels of the, tigers came the 'Cinderella 'question.' "Yes," said I in answer to, a query, "the. fairy, godmother gave her the glass slippers along with the princess 'gown,"
"Well, why didn't the glass slip pens turn back 'to her "'raggedy shoes like everything. else?'.' , Now, this particular apart of the story has been. on, my. mind, to. P190 I was her age. I told her so. It probably made her feel good to know her Mother has problems, too.
Right there, my rating was a big, round, zero. So Tim took a turn. "How does popcorn pop?"
made a 100 Per cent on that one. At least, my answer was greeted with great enthusiasm and hilarity: "Well, when I put the little kernels in . the kettle, they get hotter and hotter and hotter. Finally when they can't stand it any longer, they burst with a big, loud ouch.'. And that's how they get that way."
I' was real proud of that one. The laughter and fun that followed is repeated with every kettle of popcorn..
Call it my Luncheon Triumph.
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