The art of conversation

Last night we subjected Edith to one of the toughest settings for her: dinner out at a restaurant with adult friends of ours. Meals are unappealing enough; restaurant meals are harder, because she can't opt out to go play with her toys; and meals with guests are the worst, because she gets the short end of the conversational stick. Though we're teaching her that she needs to be quiet while others are talking, to wait her turn, and to say "excuse me" when she wants to get our attention, I appreciate that it's pretty hard to figure out how to interject one's preschool self when the adults are talking full tilt.

So Tom and I were both impressed with her attempt at advancing the conversation last night. Our friends were asking about our plans for the summer. We explained that my dissertation is due at the end of July, at which point we also have to move out of our apartment.

"Speaking of July," said Edith casually as she scooped up some applesauce, "that's when fireworks happen."

Indeed.