Not until I had my own kids did I realize what a feat my parents pulled off in getting me and my six siblings around the dinner table. Every night all nine of us sat, laughed, bickered and questioned the hell out of our parents. Even though I have only three children, I saw early on that that beloved ritual was never going to make it into our daily lives—my kids’ schedules were just too packed and disparate. My work-around—my way for us to actually engage as a family—I discovered one day in bumper-to-bumper L.A. traffic. At the time, my kids were young enough not to complain about all the time spent in the car. As we inched toward some faraway baseball field, the three of them talked about their days, laughed, bickered—and invited me in on all of  it. I was transported back to my childhood dinner table. Thanks…