How to Keep Your Family Connected
“I don’t care how poor a man is; if he has family, he’s rich.”
~Dan Wilcox, M*A*S*H
What if I told you about an easy to manage method for keeping you and your children so connected, they will be far less likely to unplug, even when settled beneath the stormiest clouds of childhood.
In the interest of full disclosure: I do not yet have two teenagers. You may call me starry eyed, but it is my emphatic belief that though the bonds in our house will certainly mature, they will never lose the core of what we have built from the beginning; I find it impossible to imagine that concrete poured deep into consistent habits will crumble, even when shoved up against the inevitable earthquakes of adolescence that can so easily tear families asunder.
The many minutes of our lives are often only loyal subjects to the whims of our daily schedules. Yet no matter the flurry or fury of a calendar week, it is rare to not find our family breaking bread and passing it across the table during our day’s final meal.
Every day needs an anchor – a dividing line to distinguish one sunset from the next; a manner to measure that breath that exists only between exhale and inhale. In our family it is never enough to simply parse our table into four sections and allow the seconds to elapse while dinner music does the heavy lifting. We listen to dinner music, but only as percussion. The melody of our future dinnertime memories drifts through the air alongside the shared details of our day.
It is there amid the easy comfort of automatic eye contact where the notes of our days harmonize into their singular song.
We rotate around the table, each of us in turn reciting the best and worst parts of our day – those moments that for better or worse drew distinction from that day’s light. Best and worst are given equal billing, as we teach our children that only by experiencing the sour of life can they truly savor its sweet. There are few better avenues for getting to know your child then giving them a stage to stand on, then fading into the background as they articulate those things that are most meaningful to them.
We model honesty. If one of my children has done something to cast a shadow across my day, I have no difficulty letting them know it was my worst part. We expect the same candor from them. I like hearing my four or seven year say things such as, “the worst part of my day was my behavior before rest time. I could have done better,” while never once shattering the fix of their gaze.
I enjoy this not because I like to revel in the shortcomings of my offspring, but because I feel as though this type of honest self reflection is rare. Catching it in childhood is like catching a caterpillar, not near as difficult as catching it once emerged from the chrysalis of adolescence.
Cindy and I were recently wondering out loud whether the best part/worst part tradition was one we passed to our children with intention. Neither of us could honestly commit. It was something we have done together since always. We can’t put too fine a point on it, but we know we’ve been doing it since sometime before we started living together but after we knew we always would.
By the time Mia was two, the best part and worst part had three even slices. Max, who looks to his sister to learn just about everything, was cooing on cue before his answers were whistling through a freshly cut set of teeth. We love how they’ve embraced the habit and hope to see it spread to the next generation. So far so good.
The other day I was absent for dinner, my presence required at an orientation for the parents of incoming kindergartners at Max’s new school. I returned home late, but Max wasn’t quite ready to bid farewell to the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” I could hear his rat-a-tat-tat as I ascended the stairs. “We did not do the best and worst part of our day,” he declared, fingers in the air and eyebrows crawling together.
“You’re absolutely right,” I said, grabbing three of his digits and leading him toward the bedroom. “What was the worst part of your day?”
“That you weren’t here for dinner,” he looked down.
“How about your best part?”
“That you’re home now and I get to tell you.” His smile spread and I tucked him in with a sigh.
Writer Dad
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About Sean Platt
Lovely ending – vintage WD.
I have t(w)eenagers, and I can assure you, Cindy and you are onto a winner with this one. We’re a close kit family, despite what we call the ‘horrormoans’. We all eat breakfast and evening meals together at a table, even now, when their social lives, after school specialisms and school events can feel like a cyclone hit. We love this chance to discuss our days, and we often have other t(w)eenagers at our table, eager to share the best and worst of their days.
Another question that builds strong foundations if every family member answers it honestly every day is “What did you learn today?” And Friday pizza /DVD night is my favourite family glue!
Lovely ending – vintage WD.
I have t(w)eenagers, and I can assure you, Cindy and you are onto a winner with this one. We’re a close kit family, despite what we call the ‘horrormoans’. We all eat breakfast and evening meals together at a table, even now, when their social lives, after school specialisms and school events can feel like a cyclone hit. We love this chance to discuss our days, and we often have other t(w)eenagers at our table, eager to share the best and worst of their days.
Another question that builds strong foundations if every family member answers it honestly every day is “What did you learn today?” And Friday pizza /DVD night is my favourite family glue!
Precious memories: released to us, and set forth for you all for years to come. For us the dinner questions have turned into a W I D E variety of topics over the years. Oh lordy, my ears have burned occasionally. Round, square, or a blanket, the setting for our meal is secondary to our presence.
Precious memories: released to us, and set forth for you all for years to come. For us the dinner questions have turned into a W I D E variety of topics over the years. Oh lordy, my ears have burned occasionally. Round, square, or a blanket, the setting for our meal is secondary to our presence.
Janice: I LOVE what did you learn today? Great question. I can only imagine the questions that will pass across the table when our wee ones are no longer so wee. Heart breaking and exciting to think about all at once.
Trina: “Round, square, or a blanket, the setting for our meal is secondary to our presence.” Perfectly stated. For us it’s upstairs, downstairs, weeknight or movie night, but ALWAYS together.
Janice: I LOVE what did you learn today? Great question. I can only imagine the questions that will pass across the table when our wee ones are no longer so wee. Heart breaking and exciting to think about all at once.
Trina: “Round, square, or a blanket, the setting for our meal is secondary to our presence.” Perfectly stated. For us it’s upstairs, downstairs, weeknight or movie night, but ALWAYS together.
Imagine how quickly the entire world would improve if even one more household per day started implementing these or similar practices and rituals.
I sleep better at night knowing you and Cindy are “out there,” Sean. :-)
Imagine how quickly the entire world would improve if even one more household per day started implementing these or similar practices and rituals.
I sleep better at night knowing you and Cindy are “out there,” Sean. :-)
You’ve described a wonderful tradition — the family dinner– in a beautiful and meaningful way.
We do the family dinner thing too, where each of us describes our day. But we add one last question to each person’s recitation: Now tell us something funny that happened.
We’ve not only had some great laughs, but my husband and I have been secretly amused at some of the things our children think are funny. Seeing humor through their eyes has given us insights into their personality that I don’t think we’d otherwise have glimpsed.
You’ve described a wonderful tradition — the family dinner– in a beautiful and meaningful way.
We do the family dinner thing too, where each of us describes our day. But we add one last question to each person’s recitation: Now tell us something funny that happened.
We’ve not only had some great laughs, but my husband and I have been secretly amused at some of the things our children think are funny. Seeing humor through their eyes has given us insights into their personality that I don’t think we’d otherwise have glimpsed.
Mary Anne: What an impossibly sweet thing to say. I can’t imagine hearing anything nicer before the sun sets. Thank you so much.
Susan: I LOVE it. Looks like we have a new question to insert during dinner. Mia tried on “What was your medium part of the day?” but it never really stuck. : > )
Mary Anne: What an impossibly sweet thing to say. I can’t imagine hearing anything nicer before the sun sets. Thank you so much.
Susan: I LOVE it. Looks like we have a new question to insert during dinner. Mia tried on “What was your medium part of the day?” but it never really stuck. : > )
I like the way you build a firm foundation. It’s that pattern of owning over denying, unconditional love over judgment, and feedback over failure that will serve them for life.
Family dinner really is a ceremony you can make the most of. If not by default, then by design.
I like the way you build a firm foundation. It’s that pattern of owning over denying, unconditional love over judgment, and feedback over failure that will serve them for life.
Family dinner really is a ceremony you can make the most of. If not by default, then by design.
Having been the mother of two teenagers, I can only say that you are doing EXACTLY the right thing. Except for brief moments of my girls “trying on” different attitudes, they have been an utter joy to me. By making time for family, they grew up knowing they were secure, even when their father left.
Two of our family traditions when they were young were “circle time” and “full moon night.” Each day after I got off work and picked them up from sitters, we would sit in a circle on the floor and “unpack.” The girls literally unpacked their backpacks, taking turns showing me their schoolwork for the day or any important notices I needed to see. Then we would figuratively unpack by letting go of any bad things that happened that day at school or work. We would discuss how we could deal with irritations better or how to respond to that bully at school. After discussing, we would leave our frustrations at the circle and start the evening with a new outlook.
Full Moon Night was our epitome of fun-ness. Each night there was a full moon, we did something fun. One night I took them to the park and we played hide and seek in the equipment, another night we went for a moonlit walk along the river. On a frigid winter night we blew bubbles outside in the snow and popped them so we could feel the skin. Some nights just involved Burger King or Dairy Queen runs. I always blindfolded them before leaving so they never knew where we were going until we got there. The girls loved it when I didn’t discover it was full moon night until after they were in bed. I would go back into their bedroom and say in a somber tone, “Girls—I really hate to keep you from sleeping, but I forgot to tell you something important. IT’S FULL MOON NIGHT!” They would shout with glee, knowing that they got to get back out of bed and go somewhere in their pajamas. Another favorite was when they were in trouble and I was suffering single mother stress. I would be yelling, telling them they needed to clean up the mess in the living room, in their bedroom, in the bathroom, and then all of a sudden I would yell, “And one more thing! It’s Full Moon Night!” Their dejected little faces would turn into happy little ones and I would redeem myself from the shame of my outburst. :)
Keep it up. You will reap rewards.
Having been the mother of two teenagers, I can only say that you are doing EXACTLY the right thing. Except for brief moments of my girls “trying on” different attitudes, they have been an utter joy to me. By making time for family, they grew up knowing they were secure, even when their father left.
Two of our family traditions when they were young were “circle time” and “full moon night.” Each day after I got off work and picked them up from sitters, we would sit in a circle on the floor and “unpack.” The girls literally unpacked their backpacks, taking turns showing me their schoolwork for the day or any important notices I needed to see. Then we would figuratively unpack by letting go of any bad things that happened that day at school or work. We would discuss how we could deal with irritations better or how to respond to that bully at school. After discussing, we would leave our frustrations at the circle and start the evening with a new outlook.
Full Moon Night was our epitome of fun-ness. Each night there was a full moon, we did something fun. One night I took them to the park and we played hide and seek in the equipment, another night we went for a moonlit walk along the river. On a frigid winter night we blew bubbles outside in the snow and popped them so we could feel the skin. Some nights just involved Burger King or Dairy Queen runs. I always blindfolded them before leaving so they never knew where we were going until we got there. The girls loved it when I didn’t discover it was full moon night until after they were in bed. I would go back into their bedroom and say in a somber tone, “Girls—I really hate to keep you from sleeping, but I forgot to tell you something important. IT’S FULL MOON NIGHT!” They would shout with glee, knowing that they got to get back out of bed and go somewhere in their pajamas. Another favorite was when they were in trouble and I was suffering single mother stress. I would be yelling, telling them they needed to clean up the mess in the living room, in their bedroom, in the bathroom, and then all of a sudden I would yell, “And one more thing! It’s Full Moon Night!” Their dejected little faces would turn into happy little ones and I would redeem myself from the shame of my outburst. :)
Keep it up. You will reap rewards.
I LOVE that tradition. May I borrow it for when we have children?
I LOVE that tradition. May I borrow it for when we have children?
The best part of my day — every day — is seeing my wife and 9-month-old son peer around the living room wall when I walk through the door. The worst part of my dad — again, every day — is leaving for work in the morning.
(Editor’s note: However, sometimes the worst part of my day is watching my favorite sports teams lose to teams that I can’t stand. That’s a tough confession to make.)
The best part of my day — every day — is seeing my wife and 9-month-old son peer around the living room wall when I walk through the door. The worst part of my dad — again, every day — is leaving for work in the morning.
(Editor’s note: However, sometimes the worst part of my day is watching my favorite sports teams lose to teams that I can’t stand. That’s a tough confession to make.)
JD: Well said, we do demand that our children own their mistakes and celebrate their successes. You should always be able to do both in equal measure.
Randi: WOW, Randi! That sounds awesome. I’ve never heard that particular tradition, but I’m totally planning on stealing it and pretending like I thought of it myself… except Cindy will read these comments and then tell me that my pants are on fire, so I guess I’ll just have to use it with attribution. : > ) Great tradition, I love it.
Hayden: It’s all yours!
Jake: I LOVE it. I totally agree. Even though I’m just upstairs, there are days when I loathe the disconnection. Going downstairs for dinner feels so magical, like I’m returning to the enchanted kingdom.
JD: Well said, we do demand that our children own their mistakes and celebrate their successes. You should always be able to do both in equal measure.
Randi: WOW, Randi! That sounds awesome. I’ve never heard that particular tradition, but I’m totally planning on stealing it and pretending like I thought of it myself… except Cindy will read these comments and then tell me that my pants are on fire, so I guess I’ll just have to use it with attribution. : > ) Great tradition, I love it.
Hayden: It’s all yours!
Jake: I LOVE it. I totally agree. Even though I’m just upstairs, there are days when I loathe the disconnection. Going downstairs for dinner feels so magical, like I’m returning to the enchanted kingdom.
Hi Writer Dad,
This is a perfect way to keep a family connected. Not only that, but it creates beautiful memories for all concerned.
BTW: I love the happy ending to your story. Perfect!
Hi Writer Dad,
This is a perfect way to keep a family connected. Not only that, but it creates beautiful memories for all concerned.
BTW: I love the happy ending to your story. Perfect!
Sean,
I have two boys (3 and 17 months) and we try of course to instill some similar routine. Unfortunately we are seldom all home together for dinner but I love the idea of it. 3 is when they get really smart and my jaw sometimes just drops to the floor when I hear the wisdom, curiosity and truth coming out of his tiny mouth. I want to keep that flow going :-)
A sigh indeed. So heartwarming!
And I fully believe in this method of family connectedness. As a teenager, the very first writing I ever did in the “personal essay” style was about the ritual of eating and talking together as a family each evening. When my brother left for college and only three of us sat around the table, sharing stories about our day, there was a big gaping hole—physically and emotionally.
Now, with three kids of my own, I can see even more clearly how important this time around the table together is to each of us. I love your point about modeling honesty, too. Thanks for the post.
Now
Sean,
I have two boys (3 and 17 months) and we try of course to instill some similar routine. Unfortunately we are seldom all home together for dinner but I love the idea of it. 3 is when they get really smart and my jaw sometimes just drops to the floor when I hear the wisdom, curiosity and truth coming out of his tiny mouth. I want to keep that flow going :-)
A sigh indeed. So heartwarming!
And I fully believe in this method of family connectedness. As a teenager, the very first writing I ever did in the “personal essay” style was about the ritual of eating and talking together as a family each evening. When my brother left for college and only three of us sat around the table, sharing stories about our day, there was a big gaping hole—physically and emotionally.
Now, with three kids of my own, I can see even more clearly how important this time around the table together is to each of us. I love your point about modeling honesty, too. Thanks for the post.
Now
One of the best things about homeschooling was that we could spend ALL our meals together around the table. I miss those times.
One of the best things about homeschooling was that we could spend ALL our meals together around the table. I miss those times.
Great tradition…we aren’t able to eat together every night because of crazy practice schedules for the kids sports but I love your idea. Going to have to use it when we finally have time to sit down together Thursday.
Great tradition…we aren’t able to eat together every night because of crazy practice schedules for the kids sports but I love your idea. Going to have to use it when we finally have time to sit down together Thursday.
Right on brother!
Right on brother!
Barbara: Hi Barbara, this was one of those spontaneous endings – it just sorta felt right.
Mimi: 3 is the most marvelous age! I would love to relive 3, three times in a row with each of my children.
Kristin: It’s so, so important. We rarely ate dinner as a family when I was little, but I always felt like I was missing something. Why can’t we eat together like the families on TV? I actually asked my mom that once. Thanks, Kristin.
GreenJello: I bet you lucky lady!
The Stilleto Mom: Our Thursday’s include Grammy. I’m sure it won’t always be possible to maintain such consistency, but for now it is a dream come true.
Out-Numbered: HIGH 5!
Barbara: Hi Barbara, this was one of those spontaneous endings – it just sorta felt right.
Mimi: 3 is the most marvelous age! I would love to relive 3, three times in a row with each of my children.
Kristin: It’s so, so important. We rarely ate dinner as a family when I was little, but I always felt like I was missing something. Why can’t we eat together like the families on TV? I actually asked my mom that once. Thanks, Kristin.
GreenJello: I bet you lucky lady!
The Stilleto Mom: Our Thursday’s include Grammy. I’m sure it won’t always be possible to maintain such consistency, but for now it is a dream come true.
Out-Numbered: HIGH 5!