Sunday Night Family Hour


I found myself rather discouraged when I walked into the kitchen after being called for dinner and smelled Chinese food. The thing with it is, you either like it . . . or you don’t. My taste buds don’t exactly favor the unmistakable taste of fried rice and egg rolls. But I vowed as I sat down that I would attempt to enjoy the meal just the same. After all, our family only got to eat dinner together twice a week. It was best that I make the most of it.

The meal started off slow. My nine-year-old brother occupied us all with his verbal inquiries reguarding what was on his plate as I pretended to enjoy myself. I began to fear, as I sometimes did, that this particular meal would become “one of those family dinners.” When my parents were irritable and I was exhausted from studying most of the day, things rarely turned out pleasant by the end of the night.

It all began when me and my mother’s upcoming Florida trip found its way into conversation. Somehow my parents began to wonder when they were going to find time to locate the second phone charger that had somehow been misplaced between the two of them. Curious, my dad rose from the table and crossed the room. Gazing at the charger currently plugged into the wall, he opened the drawer where the other charger proved to be.

My parents then began to argue about how it had gotten there, where it had come from; things of that sort. To keep them from becoming frustrated with one another, I put up my hands.

“All quiet,” I said. “Court is now in session. Case: The Mystery of the Reappearing iPhone Charger. Mom”–I pointed to my mother–“you go first.”

The two of them took turns telling their sides while my brother and I listened intentively. In the end, we both naturally took the side of our mother, which shot my dad on a rant about how we were horrible children and never respected their father (not really!).

Then, only God knows how, we began a rapid fire spelling bee. I struggled to spell strudle, though I came out right in the end. My mother smiled. “Loser has to do the dishes,” she said.

Now she’s almost done loading the dishwasher.

Compose your words of wisdom

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s