The Manners Game

I think I have mentioned before that my children have atrocious table manners.  Partly this is because for years every meal we ate together ended in screaming.  I guess when you're two and in that much pain because of food, screaming is an appropriate recourse.

However, it does make it difficult to reinforce basic things like "Use your fork, not your fingers; use your napkin, not your shirt."  For one thing, no one could hear my little mantra.  For another, no one cared:  the screaming was too loud.  And sometimes it was the Mom who was doing the crying!

So, fast forward to now:  Timothy (the erstwhile baby) is six now, has finally reached the weight milestone of THIRTY-EIGHT WHOLE POUNDS!! (yes, that's tiny for a six-year-old.  His three-year-old brother, who is not hefty, weighs 36 lbs); we have happy suppers on a semi-regular basis; and the Pickies are branching out wildly, even going so far as to try mangoes AND eat salmon unprompted....

(Sorry for the interruption there, I had to pick myself up off the floor.  It knocks me over every time I think of Timothy eating salmon!)

But, my children still have atrocious table manners; Neanderthals would comment negatively on their table manners.  So, I've designed a fun little game they BEG me to play, and it actually, really helps:

If Mom catches you doing ANYTHING you shouldn't be doing at the table (from picking your nose to holding your fork like a club), you have to put your hand on your head (not the one that's holding your silverware; I want them to keep eating).

If you point out someone else's mistakes:  hand goes on your head.

There's an easy way to get your hand back:  notice someone else practicing good manners and say what they're doing ("Dad used his napkin!"  "Jonathan is holding his fork correctly!")

That's it.  It actually works.  I don't know why, but it works.

Some nights there's just too much silliness at the table to play; some of those nights, I send the main offender off to sit by himself in another room for 2 minutes.  Sometimes, I don't push it.  My new mantra is:  babysteps.