Socialpolitical Struggles in the Kitchen

It was one of those moments that I serendipitously cut through the haze that often clouds a parent's perception. Most of the time I'm so busy ignoring the type of behavior that I'm about to describe, that I don't realize it's going on. But it's there: A constant, subtle, internal power struggle that is the essence of kid politics. It is easily missed, just as we miss, and often dismiss, the complex social interchanges of, say, a beehive or anthill. Did you ever see the episode of "Fraggle Rock" that told a story twice, once from the perspective of the Fraggles, and once from the point of view of the Doosers, neither group realizing that the other had any awareness or involvement? My experience, for a second, was kind of like that.

I was nearly finished cooking dinner. I had told the kids that they needed to set the table if they wanted to eat, and, remarkably, it took fewer than twenty tries to get them to actually do it. So I was standing there, waiting for the food in the oven to get done, when I witnessed the cold war that is arranging place settings. My five-year-old had performed the delicate maneuver of placing the plates in the specific order that would ensure he would not be seated next to my three-year-old. It's a small table so this is no easy task. However this meant that the three-year-old was not sitting in his favorite chair, the armed barstool that is broken so it turns 180 degrees instead of its normal 45, and also the chair that had already been claimed by my eight-year-old, the Don of the local mob ring. When the middle boy had his back turned, the youngest switched plates. We should call the middle boy "Eagle Eye" because he wasn't fooled for a second. He spotted the deception instantly and began flailing about, jumping up and down, and whining. At this point I went back into my coma, the only place I can hide when the fascinating behavior study once again becomes the annoying mass of insects. But I am thankful that I was clear-minded enough, at least for a moment, to glimpse the inner-workings of the childhood culture.