Apparently the Sunday roast is a dying art form. I read this week that not enough of us are sitting down to a sizzling joint and consequently our children are suffering.
Yes, children who eat regularly with their parents are seemingly happier, more rounded human beings.
Hmm. I hate to think what my children would be like if they didn’t eat with us as 99 per cent of the time we’re around the kitchen table for supper and they’re pretty grim for that.
Without the loving, caring environment which I provide (‘eat your parsnips now or be grounded forever’ or ‘use your fork properly or it’ll be Sellotaped to your hand’) they’d be even worse.
I love you kids, but you will sit there until you’ve eaten every last grain of rice.