Are you done?
The question boomed from the head of the kitchen table as dinner neared its end. We knew it was ending because food consumption decreased and conversation increased. And increased.
Richard would direct his question to the most verbal culprit, and if they hesitated with their answer, they were dismissed from the table with the old “heave-ho” gesture. We filtered through them one at a time until the last of our five children lost interest in enlightening us with their discourse.
During the 90’s, that was the scene at our dinner table. Every. Single. Evening.
They are a conversational clan, our five. I love them dearly, but there were days when their words resounded in my head until I thought it would explode. If only there had been a limit to what they could say each day. Yes, a limit would have been appreciated. Continue reading