I started to call this "Eating With My Fingers." My husband might call it "Underwear Time." You know, that time where you can sit around in your jammy pants or your underwear if you feel like it. My husband might not like me saying that here, because then it sounds like he sits around the house in his underwear. I have never known him to do that, ever, but he calls it that because it's that time and place where he could if he wanted to. Whatever we call it, I'm thankful for the time spent comfortably with the people we are closest to and safest around, where we can let our hair down and relax.
It's the where the kids sometimes raise up a forkful of Ramen noodles so high over their faces that the foot long strings dangle over their mouths and drip broth all down their chins and necks. I give them the obligatory scolding winding up with, "You'd better never do that in a public place!" It's the mom's job to say it. Carry on.
Burping is a contest. The dog licks our faces. We joke and laugh and make up weird games. The "would you rather" game is popular. It goes something like this, " Would you rather have a spider in your mouth or a mouse in your sleeping bag?" You choose the scenarios. It's actually a funny game, but you can imagine it gets out of hand sometimes.
We make strange noises. We sing really loudly. We yell, a lot. Not necessarily angrily, or at each other, we just yell. A lot. We make up weird names for each other and joke about our weird habits and idiosyncracies. We scramble words up and then use them. We talk in fake accents. We eat nuts and the shells fly all over the place. We eat popcorn and I have to pick it out of the couch cushions the next morning.
We have our schedules and serious times and work times and all that. We have special rules for when company comes over and we "behave ourselves" in public. We also have our house rules, and I insist on some basic manners, but here in the home, the best of all places, we are at ease.
Pence Home: Casual Mode.
(photo credit)
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