A Moment with My Daughter

These are my two lovely daughters. The one on the left is the oldest. She considers herself a fashionista and she does put together some nice looks. She rarely leaves the house without belting something or adding a splash of color with a sweater or shoes. She loves all things designer. I don't know where she got her expensive taste from.

However, when it comes to table manners, she's atrocious. A complete contradiction. Today we had lunch together at Olive Garden and I was watching her eat fettuccine alfredo. She looked up and said "What?" She's hunched over her plate like an inmate, holding her fork in caveman-like fashion.

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking though, when you have that first date with a guy that you really, really like at a nice restaurant...you might want to consider going somewhere that you can order a smoothie or something. Drink your dinner, you know? Because if he sees your table manners, sweetie, you're in trouble."

Still clubbing her fork, she said "It's not that bad, Mom. Besides, you never sent me to manners school."

(I love how at any given moment my daughters can find a way to blame me for every problem...including the economy, the hole in the ozone layer and world hunger).

"I never went to manners school either, whatever that is, and I don't eat like a wild boar."

She laughed and again told me that I was exagerrating.

I sighed and said, "Would you please wipe the alfredo sauce from your chin?"

"Geez, Mom, I didn't even know it was there."

"Really? You didn't feel that noodle slapping you in the face as your slurped it from the plate?"

She giggled and wiped her chin with the back of her delicate hand.

So...perhaps I spoke to soon. I'm looking for some sort of manners class, school, prison, rehab center. Anything.

Help.