Sorry, Gramps, There's an Iceburg with Your Name on It. Now off you go!

At the youngest of age, I was relegated to the "kiddie table" for all the Holiday feasts. As a child, I loved it. But as I grew, I resented the adults and their "adult table".
Until THAT ONE DAY, when I finally earned my rightful place among the wisest and the wittiest of the adults. ...Or so I thought.
At first, the rush of it all was too great to fully comprehend. But as the years have gone by, I have come to a woeful conclusion: There needs to be an "elderly table".
Dear readers, this last Holiday, as the kiddos sat at their meager pittance of a table, and as I sat high above them like the non-benevolent goddess that I am, I realized I hate the adult table.
why? Because the adults are ruining it!
The silver haired Rednecks (to whom I am related to each and every one), all pontificated at length on the merits of Trump and his perfect wall.
I cannot say word one against them, as they are the elders and therefore flawless. (Also, they refuse to allow anyone to open any of the gifts under the tree until after dinner. It's best not to cause any disruption or the real reason we're all at the table(s) will be delayed even further.)
It was then I looked over and noticed all of the resent graduates (from the kiddie table) were all gathered to one end, and the silver headed to the other. Few of the newer adults agreed with the established adults.
We need a new table; the "elderly table". When the views a dinner guest expresses are just too unreasonable to break bread with, they will be politely seated at their last supper table.
I know this will be a hard transition, but for the greater good, I feel it's a necessary one. And if a human can live her entire life without having been matriculated to the elderly table, then it will be a testament to her honor, her intellect, and her badass casserole.