Reading at the Table

It's Sunday morning, and I've just finished observing a long-treasured leisurely Sunday morning tradition at my house: sitting at the breakfast table with the newspaper, a cup of coffee and my breakfast.

I am glad that my mom never fussed at us for reading at the table. The only meal we had as a whole family each week was Saturday lunch after church, and of course the books didn't come to the table for that one. But the rest of the week, reading was just fine. My mom loves to read so much, she probably didn't want to give it up in order to model socially acceptable etiquette for us.  So we never learned that reading at the table would be against the rules in most families. And thankfully, Husband isn't a traditionalist, either, so I haven't had to shape up my errant ways.

When my brother and I were kids, reading was best coupled with a bowlful of Lucky Charms or a couple of tomato sandwiches for breakfast, or a plate of fried rice or rice noodles and veggies for lunch. The most highly-prized reading material was a big fat book called 1003 Jokes, Toasts and Stories, if I remember the title correctly. On Sundays it was the newspaper, with both of us kids grabbing to see who could get the funnies first. And while the meal menus have changed over the years, I still use mealtimes to catch up on magazines and book reading.

I know that all the dieting advice says you shouldn't read or watch TV while you're eating a meal. But so far the habit of reading at the table has me still firmly clutched in its grasp. It's like sitting down to share the meal with a variety of interesting friends, both old and new. What a rich experience!  I'm always learning something during my mealtimes. And I have a sneaking suspicion that this is the happy habit of a lifetime.