Nice article in Time about the decline of the family dinner, and why it's so important.

Yet for all that, there is something about a shared meal—not some holiday blowout, not once in a while but regularly, reliably—that anchors a family even on nights when the food is fast and the talk cheap and everyone has someplace else they'd rather be. And on those evenings when the mood is right and the family lingers, caught up in an idea or an argument explored in a shared safe place where no one is stupid or shy or ashamed, you get a glimpse of the power of this habit and why social scientists say such communion acts as a kind of vaccine, protecting kids from all manner of harm.

We seldom eat dinner together at the table -- when we eat together, it's mostly in front of the television -- but most weeknights, I come home to a meal that Bob has cooked for me, and I sit at the table and eat, and he sits in the room with me and we talk about our days before he goes upstairs to his office/television/computer, and I log on, or sit down to read.

It's become something that I definitely look forward to, probably the best part of my day.