February, 2021

A dramatic change takes place in the kitchen and dining area once you have kids. Out of nowhere appears a high chair, and later a Stokke Tripp Trapp® Chair which “Grows With Your Child”. Kitchen drawers and shelves are inundated with sippy cups and plastic utensils and suction bowls and bibs. And it’s all good and celebratory, a constant reminder that things are different now with a little human being in the house.

But then, years go by and very subtlety these things start to disappear, one by one. It’s a slow moving change that may not register on anyone’s radar. No more high chair or bibs, but we still have plastic cups and bowls and small, plastic forks and spoons. Then we lose all that, and all that’s left are small metal forks and spoons.

Much of the time I set the table, while Mama does the cooking. This month, with Annika away in Salzburg and Niki and Britta at the ripe age of 13, I suddenly found myself grabbing 4 “adult” (large) forks to set the table with. And I stopped myself: why did I choose the large forks today, but the small forks yesterday? It makes sense; the girls are old enough, with mouths large enough, to operate an adult fork. But still, should I acknowledge that a chapter is ending? The dining & kitchen changes that first took place 18 years ago (almost exactly) are now gone? Shouldn’t there be some ceremony, all of us dressed in black or some such?

This reaction is a more prompt example of one I’ve noted before: things, places, or activities which used to be a staple of your parental existence suddenly cease to be a part of your life. Whether it’s the toddler area at Rideout, the playground at Common’s Beach, or small plastic (then metal) utensils, suddenly, poof, they are gone with no evidence (short of memories) that they were ever there.

Admittedly the utensils are an obscure and innocuous example of this – I had much more fun playing with the girls at Common’s Beach than I did watching them chew on plastic forks – but it feels like the last stand. There’s not much more in the material world that the girls will graduate away from; we no longer go to playgrounds, we don’t have to dress them, we don’t have to referee meltdown’s, and now, finally, we don’t need child-appropriate utensils.

To be clear: I look forward to the fun and adventure of walking by the side of Niki and Britta as they traverse their teenage years. But, man; things were really fun up to this point, too, and so I just want to let those small forks know: thanks, I will miss you.