Photo courtesy David Andrews.

Albert Einstein once said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” That explains why the process of grooming our children to have good manners is driving my husband and me crazy.

There are certain milestones in our children’s lives that we distinctly remember. We can accurately recall the first time they smiled, took their first steps, said their first words and got their first Nintendos. Unfortunately, the day that our children finally grasped the concept of appropriate social etiquette has not yet come to pass. When I used to worry about our kids reaching certain developmental stages, my husband would always reassure me by saying, “Honey, I am completely potty trained, and know all of my numbers and letters. It all happens in due time.” At this point, the only letters I want our children to learn are their p’s and q’s.

The dinner table has served as the classroom for courteous conduct in our home; my husband and I are convinced that if we can just get our boys to act properly during a meal, then there is hope for all other facets of their lives. So during dinner each night, we have a sort of pop quiz on politeness, to see who is up to speed on his social graces.

“First question,” I usually begin, as the boys look on anxiously, “When you sit down at the table, what do you do with your napkin?” All three boys raise their hands and shout in unison, “You put it on your lap!” And then, without fail, they look to the side of their plates and seem totally surprised to see their napkins still sitting there, nicely folded. As they quickly grab them and put them on their laps, I finally respond, “Correct!” While the meal itself sometimes dictates certain lessons for the evening, the general rules are usually the same:

1. Say please and thank you.
2. Eat with a fork, unless the food is meant to be eaten with fingers. Soup does not constitute finger food.
3. Don’t stuff your mouth full of food and then proceed to talk. It looks gross, and you could choke. And I don’t care what your brother told you to do.
4. If you burp, please respond with “Excuse me,” instead of “Awesome—that was a good one!”

In my opinion, the most important rule at any dinner table is appreciation. Our children understand that we will not tolerate any rude comments about the food being served because it may hurt someone’s feelings. And more than likely, it would be their mother’s.

A few weeks ago, our family was invited to eat at the home of a new rabbi in town. His wife already had the reputation of being a phenomenal cook, but “good food” is of course a relevant concept when it comes to children. On the way to their house, my husband and I were in a mild state of panic, imagining all the things our children may or may not say or do over the course of the evening. We immediately gave them a crash course in the car, which was more like a firing squad of formalities. We covered all the basic rules, included all the add-ons we could think of, and even made them repeat them back to us for good measure. “And remember, if you don’t like something or don’t want to eat something, just say ‘No, thank you,’ OK?” I pleaded, my eyes especially trained on our 6-year-old—the pickiest eater in the bunch, and also the most outspoken.

The evening started out great; the boys were near-perfect gentlemen. They shook hands, looked people in the eye, and even said, “Nice to meet you.” As we sat at the table, I watched in amazement as each boy even put a napkin on his lap. And just as I was about to bask in delight at this display of common decency, a cornucopia of foods started to make their way out of the kitchen and onto the table. The array was overwhelming, and apparently so was the aroma. Our 6-year-old winced, covered his nose and exclaimed, “GROSS, WHAT IS THAT AWFUL SMELL? I CAN’T STAND IT!!” As my husband and I slowly sank in our chairs, the rabbi and his wife remained totally unfazed by his comment and acted as if nothing had been said.

As soon as we got in the car, I cornered our youngest and asked him why he would say the food is gross when he clearly knew that was hurtful. He replied, “You said not to say the food tasted gross, and I didn’t. I said it smelled gross!” At that moment I realized that our family’s path to perfecting politeness is more like a never-ending journey. And I also realized exactly what my mother meant all those years when she used to say, “Trust me, kids—I might be insane, but I ain’t crazy.”