Waldorf rescues breakfast

Yesterday, I spent the day home with the children (whose respective schools were closed for the Pesach holiday). I let them sleep in, as they'd been up late playing with their friends at Navah's house. Isis bounded into the living room where I was having my coffee, sweet-tempered and snuggly, but Ezra was far more grumpy. I attempted to interest them in making muffins, a favorite breakfast treat, and the suggestion was met with indifference.

Isis ran off to go play dress-up, and for another hour and a half I tried to convince everyone to come to the breakfast table. Our ritual for meals is this--- they each pick out their own cloth napkin and put a fresh cloth on the table if necessary, while I get their drinks ready. They help carry things from the kitchen to the table--- they use the same bowl for nearly every meal, they take their forks or spoons over, carry milk or tea with two hands--- and then we all sit down and I light a beeswax candle and say the blessing.

Earth who gives to us our food,

sun who makes it ripe and good,

dearest earth and dearest sun,

joy and love for all you've done.

Blessings on our (dinnertime, snacktime, breakfast).

What with Isis' dress-up and Ezra's obsession with--- what was he hung up about? I can't even remember--- the snuggly late morning and peaceful breakfast I had imagined were destroyed by squabbling and frustration. I tried to keep my cool. "Let's go sit at the table. We'll have left-over banana bread," I suggested, in a kind, soft voice. More bickering. Soon they were both yelling at me and each other.

It occurred to me that they were waiting to be told what to do. Not to be ordered to the table--- that would have backfired. But for me to set the example. Here I'd been trying to convince them to be reasonable little people, and my efforts were failing miserably. I had been sitting on the couch trying to reconcile them after an argument, and I simply stood up and walked to the table. Everything was already laid out (I had done this myself because I couldn't get them interested in helping), so I just sat down, lit the candle, and started to say the blessing.

They both immediately STOPPED shouting at each other, walked over with no tears, and sat down. Ezra climbed into his seat, and Isis onto my lap. They hurried to not miss the rest of the blessing. It was exactly what they needed. They dug into breakfast cheerfully and without argument, amicably dividing up the banana bread pieces into three equal parts.

I have resolved to ignore their bickering more often, and simply set the example. Trying to be a peacemaker has its time and place, but modeling will be my ultimate contribution as a parent to my young children. Blessings on our blogtime.