How Miss Utility shattered her glass ceiling

Per every good parenting book I’ve have ever skimmed, my kids and I eat dinner at the kitchen table every night. The experts say it’s good to check in face-to-face each day and we do. They aren’t always brimming with conversation, but we all sit together for at least the ten minutes it takes them to wolf down a taco or two. Two sides of our kitchen table have bench seating and two have wooden chairs. Now that my partner and I are separated, one of the “adult seats” has been left open for a “child butt” to fill. Each night after dinner has been called, my younger two race to the chair because whoever sits in it first gets the honor of staying in it for the duration of the meal. This rule has not always existed.

I cannot stress enough how much I don’t care who sits in the chair and who gets the bench. What I do care about is having to listen to, or worse mediate an argument about who is entitled to the chair just as we are sitting down to eat the meal that I have shopped, prepped, cooked at the end of a long day. In the days before the rule, there was whining, insults, and wrestling matches in the middle of the kitchen as drinks were being poured and full plates were being passed. The chair was a problem for all of us, not just the kids who wanted to sit in it. They both pleaded with me to tell the other one that it was their turn. I told them I literally cannot get myself to care about which of them sits in the chair and that I was very annoyed by all the bickering. The fight over the chair was becoming increasingly disruptive to the meal the rest of us were trying to have. The solution I proposed was that they both sit on the bench. That’s when they came up with the rule that it’s whoever sits down first. They figured it out themselves. They did have to fine tune it a bit over the next few days; the “sit” didn’t count unless the official dinner call had been made (you can’t sit down at lunch and expect that to carry you through the next meal), and once you sit down the seat, can’t be usurped by the other one if you get up for some juice (the initial sit stands through the end of dinner that evening). The chair rules are working out. It’s close to 50/50 for each kid and the chaos at the start of each meal has dropped dramatically.

Of course, I trust my kids to come up with their own rules because I know my children well. I instilled their values. My children understand the importance of kindness and justice. They know that everyone benefits from fair play. And I’ve taught them that they aren’t worth any less on the nights they sit on the bench. The rules work because they are well-intentioned. They support a peaceful resolution to our dinnertime dilemma.

As the mom in the room, I pay attention to what’s going on with the chair in case one of them decides to distort the truth to their advantage. They are still children, after all. I call b.s. when appropriate. If their lie or manipulation is especially egregious I might sentence the offender to a night or two on the other side of the table as a deterrent from dishonesty in the future. I try to remain neutral, but there a few levers I can pull to advantage one kid or the other. My son’s room is on the other side of the kitchen wall, so I knock to get his attention, it’s a faster message delivery system than having walking to the top of the steps to call my daughter from her room in the basement. I try to alternate who I call first, or else yell loudly enough they can both hear me at the same time. Often they are together and all I have to do is stand back and allow what sounds like a heard of elephants to enter the kitchen. Whoever sits first gets it. Sometimes there is a little gloating and playful trash talk, but things settle quickly. The other kid knows they will have a fair shot tomorrow night because of the rules in place.

If you’re wondering about my oldest, he stays out of the chair fray and happily takes the bench seat opposite me. He’s not into politics. Although, when he was younger he and his best friend could spend an entire playdate working out the rules for a game the wanted to playing. Their rules were so inexhaustible and complicated that they never actually got around to the game. Unless maybe the game was making up rules. That’s probably fun for some kids.