I try not to rule with an iron fist in my house, but I do ask for 15 minutes at the dinner table to eat as a family every night. Or at least every school night. On weekends it’s whatever, but on weeknights, I only get about three hours a day to spend with the boys, considering I get home at 5 o’clock, and they go to bed at 8 o’clock.
I’ve read reports that say the average working parents spend 12 minutes of actual conversation a day with their kids. And five minutes with their spouse.
With the whirlwind of raising kids, I can believe it.
That’s why I take those precious minutes when I can. Even if it’s a conversation from the back seat. I’ve noticed that sometimes our boys are more talkative when my eyes are focused on the windshield and not staring right at them. Maybe it’s a boy thing. Either way, I’ll take it.
But I still fight for that 15 minutes of conversation at dinner. I say fight because some nights it is a struggle to carve out 15 minutes of uninterrupted conversation (tv off, no devices) at supper when my 6-year-old only gives one-word answers and my 8-year-old would rather be anywhere else in the world than stuck at the table with us.
“Dad, can I go play with my friends now?”
“No son. Sit here while we finish eating, please.”
I tried to explain, once again, that this small window of time is the most important 15 minutes of the day.
“Dad, I’m done.” My six-year-old this time. He had eaten a total of two bites. “Can I get back on devices?”
“Not yet. We’re all going to sit here and finish eating.”
I have to admit, some nights it doesn’t feel worth the effort. If we let the kids get on devices, at least Kelly and I could sit in quiet and enjoy our meal. Or better yet, actually finish a conversation without a thousand other things going on. Some nights it would be easier to give in.
What I wanted to say was, “Fine! Whatever! Go ahead and play. Just put your dishes in the sink.“
But what I actually said was, “Tell me the best thing about your day and you can take your dishes to the sink.”
On that particular night, our 15 minutes was more like 2 1/2, it was a compromise, but it felt like a defeat.
Over and over again I’m reminded that any guy can physically be a dad. But being a good father takes a lot of work. It’s easy to “check out” when you get home from work and zone out in front of a TV all night with your feet up or bury your head in a device and ignore your family. That’s easy. Engaging your kids, asking them about their day, getting involved in their lives, and sitting down to do homework when this crazy new math makes you feel like a moron – that’s hard.
But I have to believe that enforcing (no, protecting is a better word) family dinner time is worth it. Our boys may never remember a single thing we say at the supper table, but hopefully they’ll remember that mom and dad tried to talk to me. Mom and Dad tried to listen and understand me. Mom and Dad tried to ask about my day. And they even asked about my friends. Mom and Dad care.
If it’s true that kids spell love T-I-M-E, then it should also be true that attention communicates love.
My hope is that one day ten years from now, when our boys are 16 and 18, family dinner tradition translates to “Mom and Dad still care enough to ask what is going on in my life. They still listen and try to understand me.”
My hope is that fighting for family dinner now while they’re young will pay huge dividends in the future – when it really matters. When life really gets crazy. So our boys will trust that they can talk to us about anything when they’re faced with decisions that can impact their lives forever. That’s why drawing a hard line now to keep the communication lines open is worth it, even if they don’t see it yet.
Because this whirlwind won’t get any slower. And based on the last eight years, time will only keep moving faster.
Here’s a little tip we learned from one of my wife’s friends this summer. (Thank you, Ashley!)
We started answering a dinner question each night, where we took turns coming up with a question to ask everyone. Then everyone answered the question while the person who asked the question wrote all the answers in a notebook.
We have funny answers, serious answers, and silly answers. And answers from when Nanna or aunts and uncles came to visit. That little notebook came on vacation with us and even went to a few restaurants on occasion. We made a lot of cool memories this summer with our dinner question.