A few weeks ago, Kate came to me and asked with great solemnity, "Mom. Will you teach me everything I need to know for when I'm a grown up?" Wow. What a question. Her seriousness made me smile a little because at that moment in time, she truly believed that I have the answers to all the questions she could ever have.
I know where she was coming from with it. She has tons of questions these days. Questions about daily life. How do I know how to use the washing machine? How do I measure sugar? How do I know what to buy at the store? How do I peel a potato? How do I know how long to cook an egg? Where do I buy her socks?
So, I've taken her seriously. When I'm hanging up the laundry, she's "invited" to come along and help. For now, she watches and helps where she can. The simple joy that burst from her in a cascade of laughter when she managed to hang a single sock.... it was so.... humbling.
We made cookies today.
Earlier in the week, I was watching an episode of Nigella Lawson's "Nigella Express" and she was making her Totally Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cookie recipe. Kate was there as well. Eyes wide. Mouth open. I think if I wouldn't have reminded her to close her mouth, she would have actually drooled. Suddenly, she zipped from the room and came back with pen and paper. Carefully, she wrote down every ingredient that she could remember or understand. ("Mom, what's bicarbonate?")
We then went to the kitchen and compared the list to what we had in the cupboard. (I actually have the cookbook it came from, so I was able to get the amounts from there while explaining to her that though having the list of ingredients is important, it is also a good idea to know how much of each ingredient you need.)
The list was revised once more and then it was off to the local grocery store. "What do we get first, Mom?" Unfortunately, our shop is being totally remodeled and the location of items seems to change weekly so I really couldn't tell her. Instead, we walked the aisles picking up what I needed as we went and her checking her list and getting what she needed when we stumbled across them.
She learned to make sure to check the eggs in the boxes before buying them. "Mom! Some of these are BROKEN!" She exclaimed when we opened the first box.
By the time we reached the checkout, she was losing focus, so I decided to wait until another day to teach her about packing grocery bags. I didn't want to discover that our egss had all broken or our bread was squooshed when I unpacked them later.
And so today, we made the cookies.
It took longer than it would have if I had just done it myself, but that's not what it was about, was it? So, she broke up the chocolate while I measured out most of the ingredients. Once her job was completed, we stuck the chocolate in the microwave to melt and she helped me with the final few ingredients.
I got out the hand mixer, popped in the beaters.
She put her fingers in her ears and smiled.
"You better get your fingers out of your ears if you're going to do this," I commented.
"WHAT?"
I sighed and took her hands away from her head. "You. You're going to use the mixer. These are your cookies. Not mine."
Kate did as Kate does when informed she's going to do something new. She balked and shied away from it. "I can't...." She stopped and thought about it for a moment and then pulled the kitchen stool to the counter. "Okay," she said and giggled. Her hand looked so small gripping the handle. Did she have to hold it so tightly? What did she think was going to happen, it was going to drag her across the room?
Then I remembered, she wouldn't know. She's never held it. She doesn't know how it will feel in her hand when it gets turned on. In her mind, I could probably stop a moving bus. Who knows what kind of high powered equipment she thinks I use in the kitchen?
A quick safety lesson. Fingers NEVER go in the bowl while this is on. This never gets lifted out of the bowl when it is on. I adjusted her hand position, put the mixer in the bowl and turned it on.
Cue giggling.
When the butter was well creamed with the sugar, it was turned off. Chocolate added and turned on. Off. On. Off. On. Batter was tested as often as the mixer was turned off.
"Mom," she groaned as the last of the dry ingredients were being added. "My hand is falling off. Can you do it?" I had to admit, it was a really stiff batter and she'd done good to get that far with it. "Thanks," she said in relief as I took control of the machine and she zipped out of the kitchen.
I finished off the recipe (she'd never have gotten all the chocolate chips mixed into the batter without developing Hulk arms) and got the cookies in the oven. She reappeared when it was time to taste them and declared that the cookies were "lovely" and that cooking was "fun."
A success.
Anyhow, all of this got me thinking. Back to her original question. Will I teach her everything she needs to know for when she's a grown up?
In light of the events of the last few weeks, it's a question that we should all be asking ourselves. Are we teaching our children everything they need to know for when they are grown ups?
The ages of some of those involved in the criminal acts, the looting, the destruction, the wanton violence and disrespect of communities and properties is astounding to me. Some of them are as young as eleven. ELEVEN!
I look across the room at my seven-year old and think. "Where will she be in four years?"
Well, I know where I hope she'll be. In the kitchen. Making cookies. And learning how to do the washing up.
In the meantime, I better get on with it. There's a lot she's going to need to know and time is running out.
