The following is an extract from Dorothy Pilarski's forthcoming book "Motherhood Matters".

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One day at Sunday Mass a well-meaning dad arrived with a large plastic bag from a popular store. It contained a big, new toy for his young son. Something to entertain him during Mass. I can still see the bag’s big, green logo appearing from behind the kneeler, interrupting prayers.

Being a brand new toy, it was in plastic packaging that was torn open in the middle of Mass. What a racket! Several people nearby, including me, were mortified.  

I had to fight all my motherly instincts to lean over and give the man a scolding. What I really wanted to do was tug him out of the church by his ears and ask him: “What are you teaching your child? Do you want to teach him that no matter what is happening around him he is entitled to have fun?”

I had to laugh the other day when my son kidded me at dinner time: “Steak? I don’t like steak!” He playfully suggested pizza, and my daughter chimed in that she wished I’d made a tossed salad instead of Caesar.

They reminded me of the teenage wisecracks I used to make about my mother’s cooking and, chuckling, I thought of how family dinners have been at the centre of my life since I was a little girl.

Not too long ago, a visitor from California was astonished to learn that our family gathered for a hot sit-down dinner almost every day.  

“Do people really still do that — have family dinners?” he asked.