I have a friend with two teenagers who has never had "family dinner".
She (or her partner) just makes some food and leaves it in the kitchen for everyone to help themselves when they're hungry. When her kids were smaller, she just used to pile up a plate and leave it near them wherever they happened to be - on the floor in front of the TV, in the back garden next to the trampoline, outside their bedroom door...
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She was updating me on family news while we were driving.
"But... togetherness," I said, helplessly, from the passenger seat. "Don't you have to have family dinner? It's... time to... connect."
I was repeating what experts I've interviewed over the years have told me. It's important, they say, as kids grow up, that families check in across the table every evening. Over healthy, home-made food. It's non-negotiable, they say. And so hard to actually make happen. Especially in a pre-COVID world, what with the rush home from the office, kids' sport and... life.
Pah, says my friend. "We connect at other times. I'm always driving them somewhere, we go for walks. If they need me, they certainly seem to find me."
In case you're wondering, reader, her kids seem great. They don't eat with their toes. They know how to have a conversation. They're not wasting away.
I have another mate who always, always has family dinner. Seven days a week. No deviations to eating in front of the TV on a lazy Saturday arvo, no excuses for not being there as long as your feet can carry you and your arms can lift a fork. She has three kids, a job, a partner who doesn't cook much. I have no idea how it happens.
"I was brought up like that," she says. "I need to look them all in the eye every night, make sure they're okay. And it's just... manners, isn't it?"
Reader, her kids are also great.
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