It's a sweet afternoon to watch my 11 year-old's daddy teach her how to make alfredo pesto sauce. She's working on meeting her goals for her Faith in God for Girls - one of which was to make dinner for the family - and has created the menu for this meal with much anticipation. I don't remember ever being excited about learning to cook, but I do remember always being in the kitchen. I just learned it by immersion, like a foreign language, seeping into my pores with the smell of garlic.
I'm guilty of not involving my girls in the cooking. I'm afraid of nearly-lost finger tips (yes, that's me) and knife-in-toaster jolts of electricity (again, me). I think they'll learn to cook... I hope they'll learn to cook... Will I have to send them to cooking school, like Mom had to send me to sewing school as a result of her childhood sewing injuries? Just watching Hannah wield that knife makes my stomach turn.
She smartly sasses me with, "Aunt Mamie let me cut the vegetables when she was here." I silently curse Aunt Mamie, and tell Hannah it's only because Aunt Mamie's precious perfect-fingered daughter is only 2. "Just wait." I say. I know it's true, too. And so the brave Daddy will teach her to stir over a hot stovetop just like he teaches her to be safe and strong in so many other ways, and I will watch with gratitude... and pray.
Yea! I'm excited you are starting a blog! This post reminded me of Finding Nemo when Dory says, "you can't never let anything happen to him or else nothing will ever happen to him!" :) Love you, my smart, Sweet sister.
ReplyDeleteshould I laugh or feel guilty?
ReplyDeleteI guess the real guilt will have to wait until Lucy actually does lose a fingertip...
I love that you have a blog. Can't wait for more!