When I was a kid, I always lamented the fact that I had to sit at the little kid table. It was so not my scene. Between bites of mashed potatoes and roast beast, I would glance over at the grown up table and dream of being included in their intellectual conversations, which were no doubt about the economy and foreign trade policies. Year after year of holiday gatherings I sat in those plastic chairs, with those plastic cups mocking me after every sip. I can drink orange juice out of a glass cup without breaking OR spilling damn it!
Yknow what made it even worse? There was no set age at which one graduated from the kid table to the grown up table. It was completely subjective! As the teen years arrived, I would say to myself, "This is it, Nawana. This is the year, I can feel it!". I think because I stopped growing around the ripe old age of eleven, it threw things off for me.
And to add insult to injury, ( salt in the wound, pickle in the sandwich, whatever adage you prefer), after I got a couple Christmases and Easters under my belt at the grown up table, all these 'husbands' started showing up at our house. Before you knew it, I was demoted to the kiddie table! Well screw you "brother-in-law"! You can't just show up at OUR house and expect your male grown-up status to trump the bond of blood! I knew these people before they reached sexual maturity!
I think there should be a brother-in-law table where you guys can all sit in the plastic chairs and talk about how miserable your existence was before you were honored to meet my sisters. And when you come to the big table to get an extra jug of O.J. we'll all glare at you for being such an annoyance.
I'm not bitter, not at all.