When I lived in France, I often lunched with a family that included twin four-year-old girls. Their mother spent quite a lot of time during each meal issuing the reminder “Les deux cuisses sur le tambour!” (Both cheeks on your stool!)
Similarly, meals with Opie involve a lot of reinforcing, reminding, and pleas to use utensils and keep his butt in his chair. I figure this is par for the course for age four, and he is slowly learning decent-enough manners. We can take him to a restaurant and he can be trusted to sit fairly quietly and not make a huge mess or spectacle.
Still, he doesn’t have a great track record for Big Family Dinners of the Turkeyish Kind (or other special occasions). I think that he can sense his father’s nervousness (and, in my opinion, unreasonable expectations) about his behavior, and he also sometimes doesn’t like to be in the spotlight–this is why he refused to trick-or-treat, because he didn’t like people looking at him.
We were quite pleasantly shocked when on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, he sat at the table with nine other guests and politely, beautifully, neatly ate soup and salad. It was a thing of beauty–and this was after being in the car for nearly eight hours that day.
So is it any wonder that on Thanksgiving itself, he arrived at the table naked from the waist down, growling “i hate you i hate you i hate you” at anyone that glanced in his direction?
Eventually, I ate with him in the kitchen and then later he did reappear at the table and was perfectly charming. And the next day, we went to a football game at Grandma’s school with a bunch of VIPs and he voluntarily shook hands with strangers and said “Hello, Mr. Howard” politely and stayed until halftime without a single complaint.
Oh four. You are a mystery. A growly, adorable, ear-pinching mystery, and I am thankful for you every day.
{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
This made me actually laugh out loud in my cube. Four is a trip and a half. Makes you wonder what five will be like? (Also, just curious, did he have to wear pants in the kitchen?)
Yes he did have to wear pants in the kitchen. Especially because he was sitting on my lap!
Oh, who needs pants?
I *love* that picture.
Opie is welcome at our table anytime, panther no pants.
i am constantly telling both my girls to keep both their cheeks on the seat! But not in French. Because I don’t speak french.
I was wondering if when he reappeared he was wearing his pants. Always a good sign.
Such a fab picture.
It is totally crazy, this age. Ada goes from super lovey to a monster and back in minutes. It is exhausting.
What a vivid quote! The one I use is “both knees under the table,” but the French one is much better.
Oh yes, four. Exquisite charm mixed with the occasional piercing whine.
My two-year-old doesn’t want to sit at the table for the entire meal. I’m wondering if it’s worth the energy to force the issue. I’ve been trying to just say, “Okay, if you get up that’s the end of your meal.” He doesn’t want to be in the booster seat, but if he sits in a normal chair, it’s too much freedom.
Thanksgiving lunch at relatives was served at 1:30, way after he eats lunch and just before he normally naps. He had a huge snack before we left home. It was no wonder he didn’t feel like eating while there. Luckily it was casual and he played in the living room with his cousin’s Thomas tracks (of course!).
Just yesterday my husband walked through the door and said, “Hey, he’s not wearing pants!” We’re starting to potty train and he has decided that he loves being free willy. And there is no way he’s letting you put on a diaper or underpants after he has taken them off to sit on the potty.
(Totally impressed with your French! I have a funny story involving pants and my first day in France.)
We are only just beginning to take our three kids out to dinner without some incident occuring…..We do rush through it..however..
Yeah, we’re not even close to seeing the light at the end of that tunnel yet. I consider any meal at which a fork is used for at least a few bites, no food is deliberately wiped on the table/thrown on the floor and fingers stay out of the nose a win.