There's nothing like the prospect of dinner with the family to send a young girl's heart (and mind) into complete chaos.
By "dinner with the family", of course, I mean that her boyfriend will be having dinner with the family. And she'll be forced to put on her best display of familial affection and cooperation while trying not to look too affectionate towards the people she would trade in an instant for another moment or two in his presence.
We're not fools. We've been there before. We assume you remember as well, those of you who have survived adolescence. Giddy hearts, frantic mood swings, desperate thoughts and despairing days when your whole world walks on the narrow ledge between utter happiness and complete desolation. It is difficult to watch someone else go through it, knowing that whatever advice or counsel you may provide will be dismissed, trampled, and forgotten before the words have even escaped your lips. Youth knows all, sees all, understands all, and has no need of the pitiful mumblings of the aged, decaying minds of we adults -- at least until the next crisis occurs. We understand this and simply stay out of their way, resigned to standing on the sidelines with the cup of hot cocoa and the blanket, ready to blot the tears if necessary.
But it's hard to stifle the laughter. It's like watching a comedy routine.
So. The boyfriend came to dinner tonight.
Deb couldn't find enough to do, and she really tried to help, but she was far too nervous and excited to be of any use. She simply got in the way in the kitchen, which didn't help her mother's mood; and when urged to go find something more useful to do, she hovered too long near the door anxiously awaiting her guest, which didn't help mine.
The boyfriend arrived - finally! - which gave the poor girl something to do besides pace in front of the door. We (the family) welcomed him to our humble home, bade him sit, be refreshed, take a load off; we attempted to engage him in polite conversation, but he had no ear for it because he was not there to see us.
While the cooking continued in the kitchen in spite of whatever assistance Deb could offer, Mary and I fled to the store to get some additional supplies (e.g. french bread) so escaped for a time, but we eventually had to return. Given the storm clouds which had been hovering overhead (Cheryl's head), we weren't sure what cataclysmic scene we might find. But everything was reasonably calm. There were no broken dishes or spilled beverages. There was food on the table.
And the dinner was excellent. Spaghetti and meat balls, salad, string beans, the aforementioned bread. The conversation was interesting, although inane at times, owing to the frenetic nature of some of the participants. I was a bit disappointed that the two young people were not as hungry as the rest of us, but chalked that up to major hormonal distractions. Oh, well, that left more for the rest of us!
Afterward, we played some Monopoly (which, owing to the rather poor concentration on the part of the "couple", I unexpectedly won) and ate ice cream and read books and watched something on Netflix. By the end of the evening, the "couple" was sitting comfortably on the couch (near Cheryl) and I was thinking of how nice it would be to just go to bed so as to recover from the weekend.
Ah, slumber. Last refuge of the hormonally-deficient and physically decrepit.
We'll see him again, I think.
By "dinner with the family", of course, I mean that her boyfriend will be having dinner with the family. And she'll be forced to put on her best display of familial affection and cooperation while trying not to look too affectionate towards the people she would trade in an instant for another moment or two in his presence.
We're not fools. We've been there before. We assume you remember as well, those of you who have survived adolescence. Giddy hearts, frantic mood swings, desperate thoughts and despairing days when your whole world walks on the narrow ledge between utter happiness and complete desolation. It is difficult to watch someone else go through it, knowing that whatever advice or counsel you may provide will be dismissed, trampled, and forgotten before the words have even escaped your lips. Youth knows all, sees all, understands all, and has no need of the pitiful mumblings of the aged, decaying minds of we adults -- at least until the next crisis occurs. We understand this and simply stay out of their way, resigned to standing on the sidelines with the cup of hot cocoa and the blanket, ready to blot the tears if necessary.
But it's hard to stifle the laughter. It's like watching a comedy routine.
So. The boyfriend came to dinner tonight.
Deb couldn't find enough to do, and she really tried to help, but she was far too nervous and excited to be of any use. She simply got in the way in the kitchen, which didn't help her mother's mood; and when urged to go find something more useful to do, she hovered too long near the door anxiously awaiting her guest, which didn't help mine.
The boyfriend arrived - finally! - which gave the poor girl something to do besides pace in front of the door. We (the family) welcomed him to our humble home, bade him sit, be refreshed, take a load off; we attempted to engage him in polite conversation, but he had no ear for it because he was not there to see us.
While the cooking continued in the kitchen in spite of whatever assistance Deb could offer, Mary and I fled to the store to get some additional supplies (e.g. french bread) so escaped for a time, but we eventually had to return. Given the storm clouds which had been hovering overhead (Cheryl's head), we weren't sure what cataclysmic scene we might find. But everything was reasonably calm. There were no broken dishes or spilled beverages. There was food on the table.
And the dinner was excellent. Spaghetti and meat balls, salad, string beans, the aforementioned bread. The conversation was interesting, although inane at times, owing to the frenetic nature of some of the participants. I was a bit disappointed that the two young people were not as hungry as the rest of us, but chalked that up to major hormonal distractions. Oh, well, that left more for the rest of us!
Afterward, we played some Monopoly (which, owing to the rather poor concentration on the part of the "couple", I unexpectedly won) and ate ice cream and read books and watched something on Netflix. By the end of the evening, the "couple" was sitting comfortably on the couch (near Cheryl) and I was thinking of how nice it would be to just go to bed so as to recover from the weekend.
Ah, slumber. Last refuge of the hormonally-deficient and physically decrepit.
We'll see him again, I think.
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