Does anyone out there know the feeling of being the oldest child? The firstborn, not only of your own siblings, but of a whopping 25 grandchildren?
It came with a whole other level of expectations, one of which was: youâll never be old enough to sit at the adult table for Thanksgiving.
Ever.
Your job is to stay outside with the other 24 kids and babysit. But it was couched under, âThere just arenât enough chairs to go âround, dear.â
The kid table was always outside and the adult table was always inside.
The concept of âseparate but equalâ was proclaimed yearly and with heart-felt emotion by the parents, who insisted we would lack nothing of the culinary delights piled high in the kitchen.
I do believe they thought I believed them.
That somehow, I wouldnât notice that the table indoors was laid with fine china, gold forks, fancy linens and wine glasses. That I actually enjoyed sitting in the yard with paper plates, lots of napkins, and little JimBob throwing his mashed potatoes at little Thelma Lou.
Understand that if they let you move, a precedent will be set in which eventually all 25 âchildrenâ will end up sitting with the adults.
We canât have that now, can we? There wouldnât be enough chocolate cream pie.
Thereâs just enough for the adult table.
But not if we have to share with everyone.
And you have to draw the line somewhere.
This is just one of the treasured conspiracy theories that we pass around today, some 25 years or so later, at the ânot kid tableâ. My cousins and I get together once in a while and play, âDo you remember?â and surprisingly, we do.
Not that Iâm bitter.
Itâs one of the great many things I promised myself I wouldnât be carrying over into the next generation.
Not in my house.
Oh yes, commence the âI have a dreamâ speech please, and add some âWhen IâM a grown-upâŚ.â Put plenty of âalwaysâ and âneverâs in it.
And then come over for Thanksgiving, which happens to be my favorite holiday.
We run with a âthe more, the merrierâ motto, and if you show up with a covered dish of some kind, youâre welcome to sit anywhere you please.
I encourage my kids to mix it up and sit with me.
Youâll find them over there, at a table they insist is strictly âkids onlyâ.
Theyâre laughing and carrying on and only occasionally throwing the mashed potatoes.
*sigh*
Pass me that chocolate pie.
This article should be in the Thanksgiving issue of Readers Digest.
hiliarious and so totally what those of our “age” can relate to…:)
How wonderful. I love your article and the fact that you want all the kids to sit at the adult table, If possible, or maybe make two adult tables. I also love Thanksgiving. When I was young it was always or most of the time just the three of us. Mom and Dad and me. I LOVE to have lots of people at thanksgiving. We are so blessed to live in this country and have so many friends. Thanks for the memories.
As one of the “little” cousins, I was blessed with being the flower girl in your wedding and having you babysit us while Dad worked. To me you always were the grown up while I was still a child. Not surprised that you have included your children in the grown up clan. You always have.
đ You can sit by me anytime! Apparently, all things are relative. When you stand in the great divide, every age becomes your peer group.
It’s funny how so many households are the same. I barely remember the kids table, but then I was amongst the youngest. We do sometimes have a kids table for holidays when my whole family gets together purely based on space. But usually we just make a really really long table which seems to get longer every year. Thanks for the memory.