the Kids' Disposal

growing up, my younger sister, brother, and i shared a secret from our parents that we affectionately called the "Kids' Disposal" -- this weird little shelf directly under the top of our kitchen table where the pedestals joined. i don't know who discovered it, but i do remember at a fairly young age putting it to good use at dinnertime with the help of leslie and ben. whenever we were served something that we just could not force down even with a half-glass of milk -- beets, cauliflower, turnips -- we'd rely on a sibling to distract our parents while we sneaked a wadded up napkin full of the undesired food onto this hidden shelf. later that evening (or at least within the following few days, before the vegetables started to stink), we'd surreptitiously transfer the napkin from the Kids' Disposal to the trash, and no one was the wiser. and in the meantime, we had earned our dessert for cleaning our plate. sheer genius! this actually went on until we left for college; in fact, it was only a few years ago that we finally came clean and let mom and dad in on our shenanigans. the other night, chris, liam, susanna, and i were enjoying dinner at the beach with my parents. the kids had helped my dad make homemade peach ice cream earlier that day, and could not wait to dive into a bowl for dessert. we have the same rule with our children -- no dessert unless you've eaten all of your dinner -- and while liam had devoured his food, there were still four chunks of avocado on susanna's plate standing in her way. as we watched her force the first bite down, liam suddenly launched into a very animated recap of our day at the beach. he shared what his favorite part was (boogie boarding), and then, one by one, asked everyone what their favorite part had been. when the conversation was finished, susanna proudly showed us her clean plate. i served up the ice cream to my eager children and sent them out to the deck. a few minutes later, i was back inside clearing the table when i noticed that susanna's plastic cup was surprisingly heavy. and there, at the bottom of her cup covered by her napkin ... were those three chunks of avocado. i'm sure there are many parents who would have marched out to that deck, removed the ice cream bowl from their daughter's hands, and demanded that she eat that avocado. maybe others would have begun to talk about what it means to be dishonest. chris and i are navigating this parenting thing blindly, and we had absolutely no idea what the "correct" response should have been. but glancing through the sliding glass door at our two children, side by side with peach ice cream smeared all over their happy faces, i just had to laugh. i have no proof that they were in cahoots, but knowing them as well as i do, i kind of suspect that they were. and you know what? i love that. there's just something about sibling love and support (and, yes, mischief) that needs to be celebrated. however, i will say that whenever food miraculously disappears in the future, i'll be checking any cups that happen to be nearby. and the next time liam and susanna eat a meal at my parents', my mom and dad might look under their kitchen table -- the same one where my sister, brother, and i sat decades ago -- to see if the Kids' Disposal is still open for business.