so we were in paris and for a home meal she's flinging pepper-crusted sausage casings on my plate and shmearing chèvre into the tablecloth and licking butter and poo-pooing risotto and ends her meals with water play making mini soups in her glass. we want her at the table, a part of the sweet mini prayer we flutter up together to unleash the enjoyment and then as the candles begin to flicker low. at the moment we're not drilling manners but sometimes I get nervous thinking we should go beyond pleasant admonishments and teaching her to clean up afterwards together on hands and knees in scenes like this. We want her to know delight. and choice. and wild tastes and good company. that the table is where we connect + have fun. do I get exasperated? absolutely. but in the 100 degree heat little girl gets this freedom and we revel together in the flushed cheek sticky yumminess of it all.