My daughter shows little interest in cooking with her mother. Perhaps, like me, she doesn’t understand why anyone would want to spend time cooking meals when there are other people willing to do it for you.
Even if you’re not married to an excellent chef like me, there are always restaurants, fast food, take out, and Hot Pockets.
What more could a person need?
Happily, my son loves helping my wife in the kitchen. He can be found there almost every afternoon, standing on his stool alongside Elysha, simultaneously helping and hindering the cooking process.
“Help me, Mommy!” he shouts, which is his two year-old version of “Let me help you, Mommy!”
This week, among their other culinary delights, he helped his mother make barbecue chicken.
Yesterday, he appeared on the television show Better Connecticut baking gingerbread cookies in a cooking class at the local grocery store. Maybe someday he will become a famous chef and appear on the Today show, being rushed through a cooking process that should take twice as long so they can hit the scheduled commercial break.
I guess this is why you have more than one child. When the first one lets you down, you roll the dice on another, and sometimes they come up sevens.
