More dinner table tales.

The dinner table at our house is always a hoot.

Today we were having roasted vegetables with a lot of rosemary in them.

It was a bit loud and crazy.

Isabel was singing "O Canada, our home and native land. True Patrick's love, in all our sons command."

I had narrowly escaped having Eli's water dumped all over me once already, by catching it when he knocked it over. Ethan was picking taking pieces of yam, squishing them, and mixing them with water in the trough of his bib to create a lovely orange floaties juice.

"Have some salad, please Aaron," said Mom. "I didn't sneak anything you don't like into it."

Eli called out "Can I have some more potatoes and that grass?" (Rosemary, we assume?)

I put a few more potatoes on his plate.

When I am having difficulty getting the last few bites off my plate, Dad suggests "Do you need some ketchup on that, Em?"

"No thanks."

"Mustard?" "No, Dad, really I'm fine."

"A bit of Mayo?" "Dad! Unlike some members of our family, I am capable of eating food without condiments!"

It is almost like a hush falls over the crowd. (But not really. There really is no hush in our family.)

"Emma!" Miles chides me "What an un-Gillespie thing to say!"

He then proceeds to squirt ketchup onto his own plate, spraying Mom's shirt in the process.

"Hey, I want some ketchup too!" Eli calls across the table. He reaches out to grab it and promptly knocks over his water.

I give up.