Mom and Son - in the kitchen

(borrowed web photo)

Sure, I could have shuffled him along to the TV, that's where he wanted to go after all.  How many little 5 year old boys WANT to spend time in the kitchen anyway?  But, I held firm. 

"I think you'd better help me make this food kiddo. It's for the missionaries, and they'll be so happy to get it." 

So, giving me a long look, and an eye roll, (when did he develop this attitude?) he plopped his body on the bar stool. 

"First, let's work on the stuffed french toast," I said grabbing the beautifully crusted Tuscan round of bread we'd just brought home from the bakery.  I cubed it up, spreading flakes everywhere, and offered my boy a crust smothered in real, perfectly softened butter.  His freckled smooth face lit up as he sampled the chewy treat. 

"How do you like it?"

"It's delicious," interrupted by a few smacks and bites,  "but a little hard to chew on this crust," he answered with a tone of discernment.

 We started work on the egg batter that we'd pour over the bread cubes.  I cracked eggs as he counted out how many we would need.  Ten, for this project.  His job was to stir and gently beat those eggs.  He did so, and was absorbed by the yokes, and the egg whites, and the swirls of color they made in the bowl.  I added the half and half, and he discover further about how the mixture worked together. He tested the new viscosity with his whisk.  A fourth of a cup of maple syrup and a teaspoon vanilla added a sweet perfume to the project.  He commented urgently about how the smell reminded him of pancakes, or ice cream or a creamsicle or a muffin...he wasn't quite sure what it smelled like exactly.  But that it smelled like something good. 

He stared down into the bowl and continued to stir.  Slow, long strokes created swirls of color.  Fast little whips added little bubbles on the top of the liquid.  Last we added the melted butter.  He was a little startled that some of the butter solidified in the cool cream and eggs - and floated on top.  This just was NOT going to blend in! As he worked all of the ingredients into the batter, I blobbed little pieces of cream cheese onto the first layer of bread, then layered on the second layer of bread.  He watched with eyes that couldn't leave his batter bowl for more than a few seconds at a time.  Then I dressed the bread with some ground cinnamon, nutmeg and a sprinkle of sugar!

"Wow, that smells like sweetness, but a different sweetness!" He's eyes now concentrated on the bread - his petite nose testing the air with little sniffs.  "This is going to be SO delicious!"

"Yep, I think it will be!" Then we poured the batter into the dish and pushed the bread down into the goo, hoping to get all of the moisture absorbed up into that amazing chewy textured bread. Down to the fridge with that dish, it needs to set over night. 

We get onto the quiche.  Questions continue to fly as we pull out the farm fresh eggs for THIS dish.  He studies the color of the shells.  We have white, cream and blue shelled eggs. 
The blue ones we save for last - because they're so beautiful to look at. The yokes are darker in some eggs and lighter in others. This recipe demands more stirring and swirling. 

"Why are you putting salad in the eggs?" We have a discussion on the difference between spinach and spinach salad. 

"Why does that cheese have holes?"  A cheese conversation ensues.

"Why is that pie crust all rolled up?" Sometimes I make them, sometimes, they come frozen, or once in a while I buy a refrigerated one.  There are many ways to get a pie crust.

"Oh!  This is much harder to stir with sour cream." He pushes his arms harder to work in the thick cream. I add the Swiss and mozzarella.

"It's even harder with all this cheese in here! Whew! I'm going to rest my hand for a minute!"

"Okay, but we're almost done now!" I say.

"Already? Wow that didn't take very long - not even all day!"

So absolutely, I could have put him in front of the Television.  He could have watched some creatures or cartoons, and I may have even completed my kitchen creations quicker, and with less interruption. 

But the time the two of us spent together tasting, and smelling and watching things come together was a lovely, intimate time for Mother and Son.

"The missionaries are sure going to be glad to get this yummy food." I tell him. 
"Yes!  I can tell them that I helped do all the stirring, and counted and poured.  They'll be glad I did it too!"

"Yes, they sure will be glad you helped."  A big squeeze and a kiss on his pleased, smiling face lets me know that the choice to have him help me was the best choice.  We both learned, loved and served together in happy little harmony.