A Plea To Be Left At The Kids’ Table Forever

What was once seen a rite of passage, an oasis of maturity, a promised land of political musings, the adults’ table at family gatherings, has lost it’s appeal.

Following a big holiday weekend of family and friends, I would like to openly plea for my place at the kids’ table. My younger self would punch me in my dumb gut if he knew I was foregoing a chance to sit at the adults’ table but what does he know. He’s just a dumb kid who won’t openly admit that he likes girls. Idiot.

I used to sit in awe of the adults’ table. A place where the conversation was too complicated for us to understand. We had to be separated. It was for our own good. We needed to be protected. How could we ever process the nuanced and well-informed arguments being levied at the table with the real chairs. My ass is sitting on a folding chair from the garage. Of course this is above my pay grade. Let me wallow in stupidity while I play with my food.

But as I’ve grown, the illusion of the adults’ table has sadly disappeared. It’s not a place for thoughtful discussion. It’s a place for recycled jokes and slips of the tongue. The kids’ table, on the other hand, just sits back (still on folding chairs) and makes fun of that all. I’m serious. 90% of the conversation at the kids’ table is reacting to the ridiculous back and forth at the adults’ table. No one at the adults’ table is really talking to each other as much as they are talking out loud to themselves while being surrounded by other people.

So please, never make me leave this table. This is mostly a note to my future self. One day I’ll have kids and their smug asses are going to be sitting at the kids’ table making fun of me!? Nuh uh. Not in my house! NOT UNDER MY ROOF! When I’m in charge there will be no making fun of the fact that I’ve spilled my drink or repeated my joke to each person at the table individually. I goddam paid for this food and this house so I’m going to goddam spill where I want to!!!

Oh.