First Posted: 2/28/2015
Some people get irritated when their children keep asking question after question.
For us, it’s a sign we’re finally doing something right.
Up until a few weeks ago, our dinners together were really a sad, wasteful time. We eat together most of the time, as all the research says you should. But our time together was distracted.
Electronics had somehow crept into our dining experience. For me, every time one of our reporters or a local agency I follow sends out a tweet on Twitter, my mobile phone chirps.
As my 7-year-old daughter likes to say, “Dad, don’t worry about a ding in your pocket.”
For my wife, it was text messages from her work. Then it turned into our 13-year-old getting messages from friends during dinner. Our youngest daughter finally pushed me over the edge when she started bringing a tablet to dinner so she could watch her favorite YouTube videos.
That’s when we pledged we wouldn’t live this way anymore. For Lent, we gave up our electronics at the dinner table.
It’s such an inconsequential pledge on its face. For 20 minutes a day, while we’re stuffing our face with food, we’ve all agreed to focus on one another and the food we’re sharing.
It brings me back to my days as a child. As one of seven kids, we’d all sit around the table with our parents. Usually there was a lot of conversation. As a middle child, I just sat and took it all in, sometimes wondering what happened at the tables of smaller families.
Since we only have three children, we quickly learned the answer wasn’t filling the time with sharing stories about how your day went. If you’re really honest about it, most of your days are pretty much the same as the one before. No one likes hearing the same story over and over.
That’s when my children started asking questions to help fill the time. The game is simple: You can ask anyone at the table a question, and that person must answer it. Then that person gets to ask the next question.
Some of the questions were pretty innocuous over time. What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite dessert?
Then one night, the better questions started coming. How did you meet Mom? What did you like about her? What would you do for a living if you didn’t have your job?
Every night’s meal brings some other unexpected conversation. Our children have learned more about our lives before them in the past two weeks than in the five years before that. They’re starting to realize that we led different lives before they came along.
Sure, we stumble once in a while. Someone will try to bring an electronic device to the table. If the phone rings, you tend to answer it. But most of the time, we’re respectful enough of the rules to go to another room while the questions continue.
What do we get out of them? Giggling. Time together. Sometimes difficult conversations. Most of all, we get time to communicate among ourselves in a world so anxious to drown us out.
