My Ham-Fisted Hooligans (At Least They Show Well)

Six odd weeks or so ago, the boys and I had an opportunity for a brunch-time meet-up with our prenatal class alumni. It's the first time we'd seen (almost) everyone together in over a year and we had a great time (also, no camera malfunctions this time around!). It was amazing how much more time we – as parents – had to interact with each other at our recent get-together. Apparently a lot can happen in a year.

Of course, it helped that my guys had no issue whatsoever getting familiar with all the different books and toys. For example, Nate was just as comfortable reading upside down at someone else's house as he is at home:

Ditto for Seth, who got down to business "organizing" as many toys as he could find onto our hosts' coffee table: 

... before he commandeered his own private "boat" for story-time that is: 

Of course, there was at least one thing out of the ordinary and it's not the toddler-friendly table and chairs: 

Before I managed to fully articulate the phrase "oh, my boys don't know how to use a fork", Nate had said fork in hand and was using it like a pro. In hindsight, I think perhaps he was trying to impress the young lady. 

And yet, methinks the young lady was not especially impressed.

None of which mattered much at the time, of course, because Mommy was sure impressed! I couldn't wait to get home and dig our dusty forks out of hibernation for yet another stab at things (lousy pun intended).

Unfortunately, back again in our home environment with an absence of other people to consider, all bets were off. My attempt to reintroduce utensils resulted in tears and fork-flinging and then an epic bout of sadness until the forks finally disappeared. Suffice it to say, it didn't go well – at all. 

I put the forks away once more to gather dust and quietly feared my boys would still be eating their meals like ham-fisted hooligans come college. 

• • • • • • •

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago. I have no idea what possessed me to drag the forks out of hiding that particular day, but I suspect I was feeling unusually well rested and up for a challenge. And you know, it went over pretty well!

No flinging: 

No tears:

And even though Nate and Seth were blatantly goofing off at this point, definitely no sadness:

And so it is at last – ham-fisted hooligans though my boys may be – we sometimes use utensils now at the OP.

Sometimes.

- L.

PS. Since even the pics at the end are a few weeks old at this point, the black eye Seth is sporting is the same one featured here.