So there we were, eating a late dinner like usual. Little Girl was once again trying to sneak her way out of bedtime by being suddenly starving at 8 o'clock. And since I had been and school all day and hadn't seen her, I let it slide.
But then instead of enjoying her sweet company, I decided to do a little homework while she ate. She commented on her food, and ate, and laughed. And then she realized I wasn't listening. She then said rather harshly, "Mama, talk to me!"
Poor girl. I had been gone all day, and all she wanted to do was talk with me while she ate her dinner. I couldn't even sit there and have a whole conversation with her without doing something else. Sure, I'm busy, but I'm not so busy that I can't put whatever I'm doing down to make time for some honest, good, quality time with my family.
For us, meals have turned into simply eating to eat. But growing up, meals were about being together. My mom made us a full, hot breakfast nearly every morning, and on numerous occasions, she referred to that as "Our time." Dinners were ate at the table, together, and no phones (or books) were allowed. When I got older, I was even able to come home for lunch most days. Meals were about connecting with each other, whether we liked it or not. And now, some of my fondest memories are over the kitchen counter.
Miss May reminded me of that tonight. Meals are times when we bond and learn about each other.
Even if it is just over a re-heated Happy Meal.