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The Five Stages of Cooking with Kids
by Brooke Takhar
If you’re like me and have a picky eater, “they” say to get your kids involved with the food purchasing and preparation. Um, have you been to a grocery store lately? Those howls you hear? Those are not coupon clippers in a rapturous state.
They are children who hate being taken up and down aisles of delicious things that they are not allowed to immediately open and inhale. Why, if I could help it, would I EVER, torture myself like that?
They are children who hate being taken up and down aisles of delicious things that they are not allowed to immediately open and inhale. Why, if I could help it, would I EVER, torture myself like that?
Grocery shopping is “me time.” I listen to podcasts, Instagram gross shit I would never buy, leisurely spend too much time looking at nail polish, and then load everything into the car and toodle on home. Call me stubborn or inflexible but NO PART of ANY OF THAT would be cool with a kid in tow.
What about getting my kid to help me do the actual cooking? Here’s how that would look in my home.
Step 1 ~ High Hopes
I suggest SUPER FUN TIMES of helping Mommy with YUM YUM YUMMY food. My almost four year old daughter, Stella, looks up from her iPad, flicks the ash off her smoke and blows a smoke ring that says “nope.”
I suggest SUPER FUN TIMES of helping Mommy with YUM YUM YUMMY food. My almost four year old daughter, Stella, looks up from her iPad, flicks the ash off her smoke and blows a smoke ring that says “nope.”
Step 2~ Stool Daze
I pull the stool up to the countertop and ask her to please butter this baguette. I blink and she’s slipped off the stool, is somehow under the oven and the buttered baguette is now lodged in my bellybutton.
I pull the stool up to the countertop and ask her to please butter this baguette. I blink and she’s slipped off the stool, is somehow under the oven and the buttered baguette is now lodged in my bellybutton.
Step 3 ~ Same Old Tong
I place all the elements of the salad into a giant bowl and ask her to sloooowly pour the pre-measured amount of dressing in, and then mix with the child-friendly tongs. I wipe the table and return to find every scrap of the salad in the garbage while she whistles cross-legged in the middle of the kitchen floor, eating icing straight from the can.
I place all the elements of the salad into a giant bowl and ask her to sloooowly pour the pre-measured amount of dressing in, and then mix with the child-friendly tongs. I wipe the table and return to find every scrap of the salad in the garbage while she whistles cross-legged in the middle of the kitchen floor, eating icing straight from the can.
Step 4 ~Spoon Man
I ask her to help Mommy set the table with one fork and spoon for everybody she loves. I watch as she sets a spot for herself, Daddy, Super Why, Gramma T, Gramma H and the cashier at London Drugs that rings through her ice cream sandwiches.
I ask her to help Mommy set the table with one fork and spoon for everybody she loves. I watch as she sets a spot for herself, Daddy, Super Why, Gramma T, Gramma H and the cashier at London Drugs that rings through her ice cream sandwiches.
Step 5 ~ The Grape Escape
After watching her decline each and every bite I have laboured over, I flip the table, go eat a romantic dinner alone at the Italian place down the street, and leave the next morning for a seven year exploration of my mind, body and soul in Italy where A-cups and good intentions are fucking appreciated.
After watching her decline each and every bite I have laboured over, I flip the table, go eat a romantic dinner alone at the Italian place down the street, and leave the next morning for a seven year exploration of my mind, body and soul in Italy where A-cups and good intentions are fucking appreciated.
As of this writing she is a swarthy 40 pounds and showing no signs of toast fatigue. Instead of me stressing out about her pickiness around food, and my perceived failure regarding that pickiness, I’m just going to let her do her thing. When she grows a tail from eating too many sprinkles, I’ll learn how to sew extra parts onto her pants. See, I can be flexible.
Brooke Takhar is a Vancouver-based working Mama of one goon. When she isn't Netflix parenting or running short distances, she blogs as missteenussr.com and is a contributor to Blunt Moms. You can listen to her co-host a sibling rivalry podcast on iTunes, follow her on Twitter (@missteenussr) and Likey Likerson her Facebook Page. _________________________________________________
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