Do Dinosaurs Dine?

“Papi?” Innocence personified in a 3 year old’s enquiring eyes, Brandon asked the same question again, as if Papi could guess what was swirling around in his little sweet head.

“Papi? Do Dinosaurs ever dine at the dining room table, or do they just go out in the woods for food?”

Ah, the treasure chest of thoughts in a growing boy’s mind. Brandon had been immersed in playing with his collection of dinosaurs, when we called him upstairs for dinner. He was slow to show up at the table, since he had taken over the basement as his very own pretend “apartment”. He owned it now, paid his rent in hugs and smiles on weekends. He loved that big wide open space free of adults and rules.

We heard his grrrowls as he came up the stairs. He announced that a green, purple and orange ichthyosaur would join us for dinner. Brandon made sure that his guest had a plate, cutlery, a glass for apple juice and an extra cloth napkin, perfectly folded and placed beside the salad, especially for Ichy. Dinosaurs, we know, love their greens!

The Rights of Rituals

We’re an old fashioned couple, Papi and I. Even before Brandon was old enough to sit properly at the table, we started to talk about the importance of “dining”, not just eating to fill up.

Dining, we always say, is time together as family. Dining means that all bums have to be on their seats, recognizing that little bodies turn on a dime and hands reach for the pickle dish. Dining means taking time for grace and blessing, and perhaps squeezing a little “I love you” into the hands we are holding. Dining means that we pause for a “hush” before the rush of passing the potatoes and inhaling the bar-b-cued chicken. Dining as a family, we tell him, is a celebration, as splendid as the good china and beautiful tablecloth that lay as its back drop.

The etiquette lessons aside, which will be introduced when both Brandon and the dinosaur are really ready, our intention is to take a breather in good company. Our lives have become so fragmented, hurried and harried, that we take those moments for granted. Families seem to have lost their anchors, and we consciously refuse to become part of the statistics.

Research reports from the National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse (CASA) at Columbia University assert that families eat only 3 or 4 meals together per week. Gobbling sacks of take out munchies in the car, or eating together watching television count as “family meals”. This food court mentality at home kills conversations and connections. Yet, there is hope. Dining, says the study, gets better with practice.

Coincidentally, when Ichy the Dino joined Brandon at the table, we had prepared a “camp site” salad suitable for the wildest guest. With romaine as the base of grass and leaves, celery sticks became benches, beets and oranges turned into a campfire, with pretzel sticks crisscrossed as logs. Magically, bits of jujubes and raisins turned into frogs and bugs, not just in our imaginations. We had something special to giggle about that was as important for a three year old as it was for the adults. We lingered.

Yes, we do make a fuss about our “dining”. Yes, I set the table early in the morning and worry about groceries at the last minute. Yes, I do iron tablecloths and napkins, usually late at night. Yes, we share the cooking. Yes, we love potluck for the meal. YES, there is PIE, and more pie. Yes, guests and dinosaurs are more than welcome.

And no, Brandon is not yet ready to be the Maitre-D.


Originally published in The Country Register, Ontario Edition and syndicated across Canada and the United States. All Rights Reserved. For reprints, contact maggiechicoine@gmail.com


Maggie Chicoine, The Idea Sculptor, is a professional Keynote Speaker, Master Coach, Facilitator and writer best known for twisting theory with ingenuity. She tells great stories! Book her to speak at your event at 1 800 587 1767 or subscribe to her blog at www.theideasculptor.com.