First, we don’t say ‘yuck’ ...

HOLIDAY time is family time -- and family mealtime. But I can think of nothing that will more quickly spoil that special turkey or baked-ham dinner than an ill-mannered, unruly child.

Executives at the Hotel Bel-Air -- who’ve seen a few kids, unruly and otherwise, in their time -- feel the same way. That’s why they hosted the first of three “petite protocol” classes in etiquette for young children early this month, just in time for the holidays.

With more families taking their young children to nice restaurants these days, the coordinators of the program figured the classes would do double-duty for those venues as well.

So five girls and four boys, ages 6 to 12, show up at 9:30 on a Saturday morning, ready to learn all about how to behave at the table. But first, Diane Diehl, who has conducted classes in etiquette and protocol for adults and children for more than 20 years, shows them how to shake hands and make proper introductions, how to walk into a room and sit in a chair, how to bow and curtsy and write thank-you notes and ...

“Did you really want to come to this class?” I ask 7-year-old Sam, who’s attending with his twin brother, Max.

“No. I thought it wouldn’t be any fun.”

He fidgets and pokes Max. Max pokes back. Both giggle.

“But now that I’m here,” Sam says, “I’m going to have 40,000 tons of fun.”

The table fun begins with Diehl explaining the differences among the multiple spoons, forks and knives at a preset table.

“You always start with the utensil on the outside,” she says. “Today the first one is this small shrimp fork.”

“I’m not a shrimp,” one of the boys says.

Diehl ignores him.

“What do you do if you drop something on the floor?” she asks.

“You leave it there,” one of the girls says. “There might be spiders down there.”

Diehl goes on to show the children how to use a fish knife and fish fork (“They’re best friends,” she says) and to remonstrate against slurping one’s soup, chewing with one’s mouth open and putting one’s elbows on the table. She also shows them how to use a finger bowl and put their napkins on their laps.

“What’s this?” one girl asks, holding up a small plate.

“That’s a bread plate,” Diehl says. “But if you go to the president’s house or to Prince Charles’ house for dinner, you won’t see those. You don’t use bread plates in really formal place settings.”

Well, that’s good to know. You can never tell when George or Chuck will invite you over to chow down.

After a brief interlude, during which the children go into the Bel-Air’s kitchen, meet the chef and decorate their own small cakes -- clearly the highlight of the day for them -- they gather in the dining room for lunch, an opportunity to practice what they’ve just been taught.

The menu looks interesting: a deviled quail’s egg with caviar; shrimp cocktail with steamed asparagus; tomato soup and small, grilled cheese sandwiches; strawberry sorbet; sauteed whitefish on a bed of saffron spaghettini and -- of course -- the kids’ cakes.

But Sam takes one look at the menu and asks, “Don’t they have cheeseburgers?”

Six-year-old Adam pipes up: “I want steak.”

One of the girls -- I’m still looking at Adam so I don’t see which one -- says, “I thought caviar was dog food.”

Diehl explains the purpose of the sorbet as a palate cleanser.

“Oh, you mean like the finger bowl,” says 7-year-old Rachel.

“No, to clean our teeth,” says Sam.

Diehl decides on some preemptive strategy. “If you don’t like something,” she says, “You don’t say, ‘Yuck.’ You say, ‘No, thank you’ or you say nothing.”

The first course arrives -- the quail’s egg with caviar. Most of the kids won’t touch it. But no one says, “Yuck.”

Encouraged -- or at least not discouraged -- Diehl shows them how to break off small pieces of their dinner rolls, butter them and pass the butter to the next person.

The waiter pours white grape juice into the white wine glasses and serves the shrimp and asparagus.

The best-dressed boy in the group -- Asher, 9, wearing a blue blazer, white shirt and tie -- says he doesn’t want any.

“Don’t you like this?” I ask him.

“I don’t like much food,” he says.

“What do you like?”

“Nothing.”

But he is polite. So is his sister, Rachel.

“Why did you bring your kids here?” I had asked their mother earlier.

“Well, they’re really well-behaved, but last night at dinner ... they were tapping their silverware on the table and the night before, one of them was reading at the table, so I thought maybe they could use a little brush-up.”

Actually, I thought all the kids behaved well, given that the course lasted five hours. I learned something too.

After Diehl showed the children how to set their silverware on their plates to indicate that they’re finished, she explained that when you leave the table to go to the restroom, you should put your napkin on the left side of your plate, but when you leave for good, you should put your napkin on the right side.

I didn’t know that.

The tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches arrive. Asher takes two small bites, a spoonful of soup and pushes the plate aside. Adam again asks if he can order steak. The waiter starts to pour red grape juice into the red wine glasses. Everyone says, “I want some wine too.” Sam holds out his Champagne flute.

“That’s the wrong glass, Sam,” Diehl says, gently reminding him that she’d explained the differences among the wine glasses earlier. “But let me show you how to make a toast.”

Much clinking ensues, after which Sam mixes his water and two grape juices in one glass.

“That looks like blood,” says Asher.

“We don’t play with our food,” says Diehl.

“It’s my secret recipe,” says Sam.

Waiters serve the whitefish and spaghettini.

More widespread rejection.

Max looks at the capers in the sauce and asks Diehl, “Are those eyeballs?”

A few minutes later, the individual cakes are brought out -- each with the owner’s name written, in dark chocolate, on the border of the plate -- “in cursive,” as a couple of the kids point out.

“This is a masterpiece,” says Max.

“Mine’s a masterpiece too,” says Rachel.

“Ooh, that’s beautiful. Yum-yum,” says Asher.

Asher then eats his name off the plate, one finger-swipe at a time. But he leaves the cake itself virtually untouched. Everyone else does varying degrees of damage to the cakes -- and, in some cases, to their clothing, where chocolate joins spots of grape juice and tomato soup.

“Can I take my cake home? asks 6-year-old Claire.

“No,” says the ever-patient Diehl. “But you should each take one rose from the centerpiece for your mothers.”

As the kids file out, roses in hand, everyone pronounces the class a success. After all, not one of the 40 glasses on the table was broken -- which is more than I can say for holiday dinners at my house.

Victoria King, a West Los Angeles public relations consultant, is the person behind “petite protocol” (which cost $250 per child).

“We’ll do another class in the spring, just before Easter and Passover,” she says, “and another one in the summer, before kids go off on vacation.”

Good. Then they’ll be prepared for dinner at Buckingham Palace. Or the White House.

David Shaw can be reached at david.shaw@latimes.com.

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A survival guide for kids

Parents of young children inevitably dream of the day they can enjoy a civilized Thanksgiving -- or Christmas or Hanukkah -- dinner. Or any civilized meal, for that matter. Here are a few etiquette tips for kids that will help transform them into delightful dinner companions:

* Try to at least taste everything. If you try it and don’t like it, it’s OK to say, “No thank you” or to just leave it on your plate.

* Ask to drink your juice or milk in a wine glass -- that way you’ll feel grown-up.

* Contrary to what you may have learned at home, if you drop something on the floor in a restaurant, you should leave it there.

* When places are set with multiple forks, start with the one on the outside and work your way in, toward the plate, with ensuing courses.

* When you’ve finished a particular course, set your silverware together on the right side of the plate, roughly at the 4 o’clock position.

* If you ask to be excused during the meal, put your napkin on the left side of your place setting. When you’re all through, the napkin goes on the right side.

* Bring a pen or pencil and a small notebook to the table. If you feel bored or restless, you can draw, doodle or play “hangman.” Or ask if you can be excused to take a short break.