Dinnertime

Tonight, half-way through dinner, I had to tell Dan to put his toys away because he was distracting the boys. So poor Spiderman got left with his head inside the dinosaur's mouth (he had been demonstrating the proper way to punch an opponent - that apparently went terribly wrong). Once the toys were safely stashed on the kitchen counter, I naively thought we'd be able to focus on the task at hand, namely getting some food into our children. Well, some food did go in, but only in between quotes from Alice in Wonderland and a lot of giggling. Things were going well, though. But then I happened to glance under the table at the floor. "Whose underpants are under the table?" No answer. "Is someone sitting at this table without pants on?" Still no answer. So I began checking (hey, I'm the mom...) chairs to see if there was a naked bumm in one of them. And sure enough, there sat Camden, letting it all hang out. I figured at least he was eating...
Dinnertime at the Orr house. It's a real treat. Sometimes I wonder if this is common in other homes. Here, it's a nightly ritual. And I hope you won't think less of me for this, but I enjoy every minute of it.