Dinner For Two

It doesn’t take much for two people in love. The restaurants are all closed? No problem. We’ll put on a red tablecloth and get out the goblets, filling them with spiced pear juice we found in the pantry. Candlelight, our favorite foods, dressing up in our wedding clothes, anticipation high –

What was that? No babysitting? No mixing households? That’s all right. They’ll join us. We love our children too.

Change of plans. Remove the goblets and put on plastic cups instead. Eye the china plates and candles and decide they can stay.

“Daddy can I pray?” So begins the evening. Instead of talking about our journey of love and marriage we discuss the bruised knee, the fort made in the trees and how they all helped Mommy bring in firewood.

“It’s the anniversary of when we got married,” we say, and eyes widen.

“I’m going to get married too, when I get big,” exclaims the three year old.

“Yup!” Biggest child nods wisely. “When I grow up I’m going to find me a good woman and get married.” A worried look. “But I don’t know yet what we’ll name our children.”

We exchange mirthful glances and try to hide snorts of laughter behind coughs. “That’s ok, son, you still have time.”

The two year old’s plate drops with a crash and potatoes fall, smearing the floor. Tears at first, then fascination as the dog happily cleans it up.

The meal is messier than it would be with just us. The poppyseed chicken adorns the tablecloth, crumbs of brownie on the chairs, and a telltale smear of wax from an exploring finger stuck into the candle.

We eat. We wipe messy faces. We laugh. This is the music of family and although it doesn’t really replace a date night, it’s still good. Special.

We’ll put them all to bed early and get the goblets and candles out again and talk while we watch the sunset.

How are you improvising for dates these days when you’re all at home?