"Grownups' Table" intrigues me. In my childhood, there was always a Children's Table at family gatherings, during which the grownups largely ignored us unless we broke something. When my own children were little, the older generation seemed amazed--disapprovingly so--enviously so?--at how much attention we parents paid to our children, how we prioritized their needs at extended family gatherings. I think it's great that on McNaughton's Substack, the grownups get their own space to "play" in. (And I wonder if the children raised with so much attention and solicitousness will end up, when they're finally running the world, being any less selfish and acquisitive than my own generation has been.)
Thoughtful breadth of things you are feeling grateful for.
Love Gigi’s observations on changes in kids’-table practices.
I don’t know if other families called the kids’ table Siberia as we often called the table of those relegated to the kitchen during the 80s. That may have had something to do with the small number of actual children in that era and an increased number of boyfriends and in-laws my step-father wished to avoid.
"Grownups' Table" intrigues me. In my childhood, there was always a Children's Table at family gatherings, during which the grownups largely ignored us unless we broke something. When my own children were little, the older generation seemed amazed--disapprovingly so--enviously so?--at how much attention we parents paid to our children, how we prioritized their needs at extended family gatherings. I think it's great that on McNaughton's Substack, the grownups get their own space to "play" in. (And I wonder if the children raised with so much attention and solicitousness will end up, when they're finally running the world, being any less selfish and acquisitive than my own generation has been.)
They got wine. We got cranberry juice.
Beautiful drawings! Especially your ear!
Thoughtful breadth of things you are feeling grateful for.
Love Gigi’s observations on changes in kids’-table practices.
I don’t know if other families called the kids’ table Siberia as we often called the table of those relegated to the kitchen during the 80s. That may have had something to do with the small number of actual children in that era and an increased number of boyfriends and in-laws my step-father wished to avoid.