23 months.

For the first time ever, we had dinner together as a family, at the kitchen table, with no high chairs involved. Just my son’s booster seat.

Somehow his reaction to “eating at the table like a big boy” came across like he was a Southern rapper in a video shoot, showing off his newly acquired grandiose lifestyle.

I don’t know why he felt the need to put his foot on the table while he sipped on his pureed vegetable pouch; but he insisted, and we didn’t argue.

After all, this is the South. We can get away with quirky stuff like that simply by saying, “This is the South.”

That might also explain why our son asked for, and received, butter on his homemade whole wheat veggie pizza.

Part of the success of your child making it through an entire dinner, without a high chair, is knowing they actually ate dinner.

We have finally gotten to the point where he understands he must A) eat the same dinner as his parents, B) eat Cheerios and milk, or C) go to bed early.

This particular night he chose both veggie pizza with butter and Cheerios.

Our first family dinner at the kitchen table went much better than I thought it would:

No spills, no melt-downs, and most importantly, I actually got to finish my meal without any annoying interruptions.

I like this change. My son will be 2 years old in just a few days and his maturity is starting to show.

Perhaps he’s just simply eager to please his parents as the only child (so far?) but I could tell he really liked feeling a part of the family during our dinner.

My expectations were so low, rightfully. Fortunately, my son proved me wrong.

Maybe the secret is just adding butter. If so, it’s worth it. No more of me quickly eating dinner over the kitchen sink before I have to rush him upstairs for his bedtime.

At least that’s what I’m hoping for.