Table Manners

After days of thinking my teenager is a stubborn high school blob whose only goal in life is to embarrass his parents, I am shocked and proud to learn he actually has manners.

This discovery occurred in a round-about way, and began with a fairly common thought of "Is he trying to irritate me?" Let me explain. Since we are preparing for a party tomorrow evening, Jeff and I thought it best to hit the grocery tonight rather than wading through Saturday morning's crowds. So, upon compiling a list we set out for food mecca. As the car exited the driveway, Jeff dialed our son's phone to tell him where we were going and make sure he had his key. Unfortunately, the boy didn't answer the call. This is troubling for us on several levels. There is, of course, the initial irritation of "He's ignoring me." Then, the idea that perhaps he can't hear the phone due to a myriad of explanations ranging from loud music to playing in the park, spurs us to dial again to give him a second shot. When he doesn't answer this time, worry sets in. "Is he hurt? Has someone taken his phone? Why doesn't he answer? Is he up to something he shouldn't be?" All of this occurs in mere milliseconds. As the phone rings and rings the second time, Jeff turns onto the next street over where our son's friend lives. Out I hop from the car the moment it stops at the curb, and up to the door anxiously waiting for it to open as soon as I ring the bell. (The fear, here, is that his friend's parents will respond with, "I thought they were at your house!")

Relief flows through me as I am ushered into the kitchen where my teen is sitting properly at the dinner table. I receive an explanation that the phone is turned off because he doesn't want to disrupt the meal. I am voluntarily given a hug (in front of everyone!) and a sincere "Sorry Mom." At this point my heart melts and I take in the surroundings to describe the event to Jeff, who is waiting patiently in the car. As my son returns to his seat I notice his hands go neatly to his lap and his posture is straight and tall. (This is surprising because at home he sprawls across two chairs and throws his arm across the table for support.) I also observe that his normal volume (speaking to the deaf) is toned down to a discreet level, and he is conversing politely with his friend's little sister. (Please understand - this is my son who makes constant jokes about roasting annoying children.) As I thank his friend's parents for inviting him to dinner, I hear that he is a "pleasure" and "always welcome."

At home, later, I ask my son to let me know before he turns off his phone in the future, and receive a "Sure, Mom. I didn't mean to worry you earlier." I am beginning to think aliens or some government black ops scenario has replaced my boy with this kid who knows how to behave during a family dinner outside of home. The knowledge that all the manners we've tried to teach him actually sank in is gratifying indeed. I suppose, though, upon further thought, that I should be happy he lolls around the house like a Saint Bernard puppy because it means he is comfortable here. At home he can be himself and feel secure in the knowledge that we love him - slovenliness and all. My mom always said that home is a soft place to land, a place where everyone knows you and loves you for who you really are. Today, I see that my son understands this acceptance and allows us to see who he is on the inside, and yet knows how to function in polite society. Today I see that he is growing up.