Cooking with Mommy

If we're friends on Facebook, you may remember that I asked about a step stool in the kitchen a few weeks ago. Well, we bought a safer step stool (rather than let John use the step ladder that even he was afraid to climb!) and now I have a constant companion in the kitchen. There is much joy in this companionship, and sometimes there's much terror, but we both live to tell about it.

Last night, I was making French toast after my attempt to make white chili was foiled by some bad beans. I got out the eggs and I heard the drag of the foot stool and John's little voice say "Eh-zz". I gave him his own bowl and an egg, figuring it was a manageable mess if it all ended up on the counter and the floor. John cracked his egg with his bare hands and gleefully dumped it into his bowl. I was able to pick out the shells and he added it to the bigger bowl. By added, I mean that he turned his bowl over into the bigger bowl and then dropped it. Nonetheless, the egg was added to the bowl. I got out the whisk and proceeded to scramble the eggs. John was eager (read: on the verge of a meltdown) to help, so I gave him the whisk and let him have at it. Thankfully, the bowl was large enough to handle the sloshing, and John's observant enough to use the whisk correctly. I added the milk, cinnamon, and vanilla and tried to regain possession of the whisk. After a small fit and some mix on the counter, John asked to stir in a calm voice, and I figured I was already in this deep, we might as well continue!

John whisked while I sliced the bread. "Knife! No-no!" he repeated. I'm watching him out of the corner of my eye and wondering what in the world I was thinking! He whisked away, keeping everything in the bowl. It was time to dip the bread and John was a little hesitant over his diminishing mixture, but he managed quite well for a two year old. I browned them in the pan, then transferred them into the oven to finish cooking and to stay warm. Husband John came home once the toast was finished and was on the sidelines for the excitement of scrambling eggs for our side dish. I'll venture to say that the bowl of eggs and the toddler were too much for him and he distracted John from the kitchen so I could finish up.

When we sat down to eat, I was relieved we managed to pull it off with no burns and only a bit of egg on the counter, and John seemed pleased that he had helped make dinner. Young John enjoyed some of his French toast, John and I devoured ours, and then it was bath time and bed time.

I don't know what I'm getting myself in to by letting John be in the kitchen. John's propensity to touch hot things and general toddlerness makes me nervous. I don't want to be foolish, but it's fun to see him work so hard to mimic what I do and be so eager to help in the kitchen. Pray for patience for this Mama and that sweet John would heed his mother's warnings!

I managed to get the camera out and took a few pictures. Does this make anyone else nervous?!

This is what makes me nervous!