In our family, dinner is a kind of ritual. No matter how busy the day gets, we always try to sit down together. When Dad’s home, we all eat at the same time. When it’s just the kids and me, sometimes one of them skips the meal, but they’ll still sit with us – just to talk.
Dinner time is our little space for everything: school stories, random questions about taxes, “What’s a quark?”, and sometimes even big topics like geopolitics. It’s never planned, but somehow our conversations wander everywhere.
When my sister once heard about what we usually discuss at dinner, she laughed.
“Why are your dinner talks so serious?” she said.
And it’s true, in Thai culture, we don’t usually dive into debates or heavy topics at the table. But in our family, it has become our way of connecting.
Last week, the conversation turned to computers. My daughter mentioned she wanted to buy a new desktop because her old laptop, a hand-me-down from her brother, couldn’t run the game she wanted to play.
She said, “I’ll get a new one when I start working. You can help me if you want,” looking at her brother with a hopeful grin.
Without missing a beat, he replied, “No. I don’t want to.”
He said it jokingly, but she went quiet. The mood shifted a little. We kept chatting about other things, but soon, small jabs and teasing started flying across the table. The tone turned sharper, and before long, they were tossing words that didn’t sound so funny anymore.
I decided to step in.
“Hey,” I said gently, “maybe use nicer words? Keep it light.”
Both of them turned to me at once.
“Mom, it’s just how we talk!”
“It’s normal! We’re just joking.”
Apparently, I was the only one who didn’t get the joke.
Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I’ve always believed that a real joke doesn’t hurt. Both sides should be laughing. Otherwise, one person is just the punchline. My husband agreed. He said, “If you keep snapping at each other like that, one day, one of you will actually get upset. That’s how small jokes turn into big fights.”
They listened, half-smiling, still insisting they didn’t mean any harm. My son even explained, “When I said ‘no,’ I didn’t mean I wouldn’t help her. I just thought she asked the wrong question. Of course I’d help!”
So I stopped lecturing and let it go.
After dinner, my husband went to his game, and I started cleaning up. When I looked back, both kids were sitting side by side at the table – heads together, searching online for computer parts.
Then I heard it again.
“No, idiot, that one’s not good !”
And then laughter.
I smiled to myself. Maybe that’s just their language. Teasing wrapped in affection, like soft punches that never really land.
There’s an old saying: “Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can break your heart.”
Maybe… just maybe, there’s an exception for them.
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