The other day it rained, and rained, and rained. The kids were like the little boy and Sally from “The Cat in the Hat”, “too wet to go out, too cold to play ball, so we sat in the house. We did nothing at all.”
You all know how much I loathe love arts and crafts. After school, I raided my scrapbooking box and pulled out all kinds of stickers, scrap paper, glue dots, and crayons. I was going to have the girls make some birthday cards for the birthday parties they have this week-end. They preferred to just cut and paste and cut and paste. Who am I to stand in the way of artistic expression?
Five minutes later, when they were bored of that, we moved onto dress ups, Play-doh, Barbies, and tea party. I was steadily running out of ideas, the rain kept coming down and I really wanted to stave off putting on the TV for as long as I could. I told the girls they needed to read some library books until dinner was ready. That bought me about 6 minutes and the biggest stroke of genius I’ve had in a long time.
I pulled their activity table into the middle of the kitchen, put their Anywhere Chairs on either side, and laid out some satin napkins. I put out two port glasses filled with milk and two crystal candle holders with some stubby candles left over from the Nor’Easter. I called the girls to the table for dinner and told them how excited I was that they were going to join us for dinner.
The look of bewilderment on their faces evaporated as quickly as it arrived once they saw the spread on the table. When I offered them a choice between hot dog or grilled chicken, Morgan snapped her napkin across her lap and said, “I’ll have the chicken, please.” Coever insisted on the hot dog. Their respective entrees came with corn on the cob and cucumbers with hummus.
Once plated on some real dishes (i.e. not plasticware) and served with their tall port glasses of milk, you would have thought Morgan and Coever were some society ladies taking afternoon tea. The kitchen was filled with “Why yes please” and “Oh isn’t this pleasant” and “Let’s have a toast”. I knew I took a risk with the candles and the glasses, but smack my face and call me Rosie, those two were ever so mindful of the potential to set the house on fire or impale themselves on a shard of glass.
If they toasted each other once, they toasted each other half a dozen times, each more vigorous than the last.
For dessert, the kitchen offered a choice of chocolate pudding or a Popsicle. Didn’t the little diva (a.k.a. Morgan) request her pudding to be served in a bowl, on a saucer, with a spoon and some cool “huh-whip“? Coever opted for the Popsicle and refill of milk, natch.
When they had dined sufficiently and lapsed into a nice post-dinner conversation about what to do next, I had to shake my head and smile. Something as routine as dinner can be made totally brand new with the addition of a few simple touches. I’m glad they enjoyed it.
Maybe next time, they can leave ol’ Mom a tip. . .
