Kid's Table Syndrome

Two words. Elimination Communication (EC).

Middle school me would have never guessed that I’d be one to go against norms as an adult. I spent my pre-teen years trying to conform to everyone else in hopes that I would just blend in so well I’d become invisible. Middle school me would have scoffed at first-time-mommy-me. Not on purpose, but it seems that I have spent most of my adult years running away from the norm, especially as a parent. I got it into my head that I would have a natural birth and I convinced my supporting husband to be on board with that. (It was so far from being natural. It was so medicated. At least the last few hours of a gruelling 36 hour period. But this is a story for another time.) And this is where it all started. An attempted natural birth turned into cloth diapering turned into trying ECing. What is ECing? Basically, I had my 3 month old on a tiny potty. The point was not potty training though. The point was to teach my baby boy how to communicate that he needed to go. I don’t remember how long it took, but he eventually learned to make sounds to let us know what he needed to do. Number 1 or number 2. Yes, there were setbacks. He didn’t go completely diaper free early, but he learned to communicate early on and it helped so much with potty training and frustrations that come with not being able to communicate. 

The other thing that was amazing for us to see was our little guy also learning to communicate through sign language before he actually became verbal. Baby Signing Time was constantly playing in our house. All this to say that children are amazing! Not when they turn a certain age, but from the very start. I’d go as far to say even in the womb. Seeing sonograms of my child self-soothing by sucking their thumb. Feeling my youngest daughter kick and move around when her brothers would play. She was already bonded to them before she was out in the world. What would happen if we, as a society, gave them more credit for what they could do? I certainly started this journey of teaching my children so skeptically, but with each milestone, I was amazed. They amaze me everyday.

And this leads me to a pet peeve. I may get pushback about this, but I’m going to say it anyway. My pet peeve are kid’s tables. I mean I get why they exist. Sometimes it’s cultural. Sometimes they exist for space reasons. And sometimes they are there as a break for the parents, which fair enough, yes, absolutely parents need time away from their children. I think an occasional kid’s table set up is fine. But when it’s just an accepted-every-gathering-norm, I think it sends a message to children that we don’t want to send. How? Because then it becomes a hierarchical thing and this may sound harsh, it pushes them down to second class citizens that need to work their way up to the adult table. I’ve read that some never even make it to the adult table until they are married. How strange is that? Not to mention a bit traumatizing and absolutely soul-crushing. Which leads me to the question...when are children considered persons then? Is it when they can sit quietly for long periods? When they are able to do chores or drive?

So the kid’s table has become a bit of a symbol for me. A syndrome in our society. The kid’s table syndrome. I’m here to argue that they deserve a seat at the grown up table. As a matter of fact, let’s just throw out the grown up table all together. (I like the idea of King Arthur’s round table. Yes, a round table will do.)

I want to scream it from the mountaintops, “Let’s overestimate what they can do, rather than underestimate!” Include them in hard conversations in an age appropriate manner. Let them lead conversations. Let them do hard things even if it means it’s more work for us to start. And to answer the earlier question, they are BORN persons. (Homeschool moms rejoice!) Not to be underestimated, but to be taught and boy do they learn fast. So let’s be sure to send them correct messages. It’s not an easy road or the one most travelled, but this is where I will start, will you join me on my journey to becoming (child)wise?  Until next time, I’ll save a seat for you at the table.