Do you remember the clear vinyl your grandmother rolled out over the nice tablecloth during family gatherings?
I never thought much of it as a kid, of course; but when I was looking back to it from my teen years I was filled with all the disdain teens are known for.
“I’ll never cover my tablecloths,” I thought. “Let people spill on them. It’s only a tablecloth. It’ll wash. And if it doesn’t? It’s only a tablecloth.”
I’ve followed through, setting my table with my grandma’s tablecloths and some I’ve acquired along the way. My tablecloths have seen spaghetti spills, chili spills, grape juice spills (oh. so. many. grape juice spills during seders). I’ve happily reassured the spillers (and their parents) that it’s no problem at all – it’s only a tablecloth.
This spring, I saw a tablecloth at ALDI that was quite pretty and I impulse-bought it. I spread it across the table and I was in love.
You see, I love our table. I like how easy it is to get around the oval. It’s just the right size for six when it’s leafless – and the leaf allows me to seat ten (albeit a little tight). But our table desperately needs refinished.
Problem is, ain’t nobody got time for that.
The tablecloth kept all the magic of our table – without the reminder of yet another thing I don’t have time to do.
And then we ate lunch on it.
Folks, I have a four-year-old, a two-year-old, a one-year-old, and a ten-month-old. You know where this is going, right?
The tablecloth had to go in the washer right after lunch.
But I was in love with the tablecloth concept, so I pulled out another. I put placemats on top of the tablecloth for supper.
The tablecloth still had to go in the washer right after supper.
I swallowed hard, got on Amazon, and ordered myself a Grandma table protector.
