Steve Smith -- Family Time

A few days ago while visiting a favorite bagel shop, I saw a baby in a

highchair wearing the new millennium version of a simple cotton bib.

But instead of being a piece of cotton cloth that absorbs spills and

can be tossed in the wash, this one was made of molded plastic, hard as a

rock.

Food that dribbled out of the baby’s mouth was supposed to fall into a

molded plastic tray along the bottom but, like all baby meals, the food

missed everything but the floor.

The assortment of useless children’s accessories that are available

has never ceased to amaze me. That junk is now an entire industry.

Stupid children’s products I can live with, after all, I’ve purchased

more than a few in my time, all with the rationale that nothing was too

good for my kid. Now, however, I have come across a press release for a

series of parenting books that gives me great cause for concern.

Most of the seven books on this list are bearable, and even though I

wonder why a parent needs a “packable, portable book of infant

development and bonding,” I can live with it. I can also live with the

book of “over 70 seriously fun games for creative families.”

That one, I may even read.

But the list also includes a book telling parents “how to stay close

to your kids when you’re far away.” One can only assume that the book is

simply instructions on how to dial a telephone.

The kicker on the list is the book with instructions for “365 mealtime

conversations for parents and children.” Apparently, a writer has

determined that in addition to the ready-made meal we’re picking up on

the way home, we’re also in need of a ready-made dinner conversation

topic for the evening. And apparently, a publisher agreed.

Here’s how it is likely to go at the dinner table at the house of John

and Marsha Doe and their two kids, Russell, 10, and Susan, 7. John and

Marsha have read the book and are testing it.

“Russ,” says Dad, “have you had a chance to formulate a response to

this evening’s topic?”

“Yes, Dad,” says Russell. “But I’m still having some trouble

understanding why treasury bills are so quickly affected by the

fluctuating interest rates. And I’m still not sure why we ignored the

terrorist warnings we’d been receiving for the last several years.”

“Now, hold on, Russ,” says Dad, “you know we discussed bureaucratic

bungling last night. Let’s stay focused on tonight’s topic, which is the

economy.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

There are some questions that must be asked about this book. For

instance, what happens if you don’t have a meal together and miss one of

the 365 topics?

Does that mean families have to discuss two topics the next night? And

since there are only 365 topics, what are we supposed to do in a leap

year? I don’t think it’s right that we should have to pick our own topic

when we’ve already paid good money to have someone do it for us.

I suppose there is something to be said for just having a family

dinner at all because the pressures and schedules seem to be built to

tear us apart. A couple of nights ago, our 8-year-old son’s soccer game

started at 7 p.m. and was over at almost 8:30.

Since we try to get him in bed by 8:30 p.m., it was impossible that

night because of the lateness of the game. So, I drove through a

fast-food joint and our family had a late dinner.

That’s better than nothing. But no one had to tell us what to talk

about, and my guess is that most family dinner tables don’t need a prompt

to start their conversations, either. Most of the time, that talk usually

centers around school -- what happened, good or bad, and how it was

handled.

Note to kids: Dinner is a good time to tell your parents all the bad

stuff. We’re usually kind of tired, and we believe that everything will

be better in the morning.

Perhaps the real problem is that we’re just not having enough of those

family dinners. And because there is no time to unwind with the family

and find out what has happened to each other over the past 12 hours, we

need some coaching. Perhaps that’s the rationale for the book.

If so, we’re in big trouble.

So here are two Hagrid-sized thumbs down on the mealtime conversation

book.

Families should opt instead for not disturbing the natural order of

things and letting the conversation go where it will. Kind of like baby

food on a cotton bib.

* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and freelance writer. Readers

may leave a message for him on the Daily Pilot hotline at (949) 642-6086.