Yes, I really hate suppertime.
I write a column for a local paper and this week I described how I loathe and despise suppertime. By the time it rolls around everyone is tired and uncooperative and I'm on my last nerve.
Life imitates art imitates life...
Tonight the whole fam damily, including both sets of grandparents, brother and sister-in-law, sat down to a swell turkey supper at our house as part of our belated Thanksgiving/Girlchild's birthday dinner. I starved the kids all afternoon so they would be good and hungry when supper came. I served them first, and by the time I got to the table with my plate about three minutes later, they had already finished their usual 6.5 bites and were asking to leave. Boychild announced he "did not really feel like eating" (this from the boy who would graze all day if I let him) and Girlchild was pushing chairs around the dining room in an effort to do something she believed was Very Important. Naturally, since none of us mere plebians could grasp the huge vastness and significance of her plan, this led to an It's-My-Party-And-I'll-Cry-If-I-Want-To Tantrum. All this before I could even take one bite. Sigh.
Man, do I hate suppertime.
It all ended well, though. Good food, nice conversation, birthday cake (banana with chocolate icing) AND Krista's yummy pumpkin cheesecake, lots of smiles. I'm thankful for family, even when they cry.