Kids Table

When I was young, the house my family went to for Thanksgiving had a kids table. One reason it was called this was because the table appeared to have been built by children. It was of the fold-up variety. As a result, although it was easy to store, it had all the stability of a drunken college student.

Not that I expected the kids to get a table like the parents used, one carved from a tree the size of an oil tanker. I just thought we at least deserved something that took into account things like gravity and physics. And since kids aren't known for being gentle, you'd think the parents would have gone out of their way to give us something that could withstand the occasional bump. Instead we had a table that shook after any kind of prolonged staring.

But this could be why the parents went overboard in the area of knife safety. The knives we were given were only slightly sharper than those plastic kid scissors we get in school. Something you give to a guy who has attempted suicide more than 37 times.

I guess with a table constantly on the verge of toppling over, the parents decided it would be best not to have any sharp objects that could get thrown into the air. At this point, though, why not just skip the fake silverware and tell us to cut through the turkey by making sawing motions.

Now, there was no assigned seats at this kids table, however, the oldest child did have first pick. I was the youngest of the kids, so sometimes I was at the corner of the table...I basically had to eat with the corner stabbing me in the chest.

Each Thanksgiving I would stare at that adult table and think, maybe someone will get a divorce and open another spot for one of us kids to move to the adult table...or maybe someone will die soon, they all look old to me. Granny looks like she is on her last days!

But I never made it to the big table...by the time I was old enough and had earned my right to sit at the big table, I was in therapy sessions trying to get over this injustice I had endured.