The night she stayed in her room and I ate dinner on my own

I was making dinner one night and my daughter decided to stay in her room to play. Usually, I get her to help, but on that night, I wasn’t making anything special and I could finish more quickly without little hands hovering over hot stoves and sharp knives, trying to help me.

When dinner was ready, I asked her to set the table. I heard a little voice from upstairs call out, “I’ll be down in a minute.”  A minute had passed. I put the food on the table. “I’ll be down in a minute.” I got the drinks and placed the utensils on the table. “I’ll be down in a minute.”  Dinner’s ready, I called out a final time. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

I sat, looked around and saw a table full of food, two place settings and only me. I gave a long sigh, got up from the table and went over to the wine rack. Selected a bottle of red, uncorked it and pour myself a nice glass. I proceeded to eat, slowly, enjoying every mouthful to be followed by a sip of wine. I had salad, soup and finished the meal and two glasses of wine. I looked around and found her untouched place setting. I got up again and this time, I went to get myself a slice of pie, scooped a side of ice cream and poured myself a third glass of wine, too. When I finished, I put all my dirty dishes away and cleaned up the kitchen. I took the food off the table and put the leftovers in containers and left them on the counter. I cleared away her place setting, too.  I looked around and was satisfied that everything was cleaned up.

Maybe the wine made me mellow but the evening certainly ended on the up and up. Since that evening, a call for dinner is met with, “Coming.” I’m glad she enjoys dinner time together as much as I do.

As I proceeded upstairs for a shower, she met me halfway down the stairs and said she was done playing and was ready for dinner. In the calmest of voice, I said I had already eaten and cleaned up. “The food is all on the counter. Get a plate from the cupboard and pour yourself a glass of milk. Please put all the dishes away when you are done.” I’m not sure whether she was stunned that I had proceeded to eat without her or whether my deadpan approach had unsettled her. I continued upstairs for my shower; she nervously proceeded downstairs for her dinner.

After I had come out of the shower, I had heard whimpers of crying from the kitchen. I said nothing. A few minutes later, she came upstairs with full on tears telling me she was upset. I asked her why and she said she didn’t want to eat by herself. I gave her a smile and hugged her and said, “I know how you feel, because I felt that way just earlier.” We had a brief conversation about cooperation and how I really enjoy dinner conversations with her and I missed it that night. She hugged me tighter as I recall a part of our family where cousins would eat dinner at different times or places like in their rooms or in front of the TV. That’s not what I want.

We went downstairs together; I sat next to her while she ate. We cleaned up her dishes together and while she was having dessert, I had a fourth glass of wine! Maybe the wine made me mellow but the evening certainly ended on the up and up. Since that evening, a call for dinner is met with, “Coming.” I’m glad she enjoys dinner time together as much as I do.