One of my New Year’s Resolutions for a Lazy Parent was to get my kids more involved in cooking. It’s not that I have a wish for them to go through life with four fingers each; it’s that I want them to be able to cook one meal a week by the time they’re ten. William and Vivian think they’re getting a dog when they’re that age, but the truth is they’re getting chef hats.
Even though I haven’t yet attempted this resolution, my kids are often underfoot when I’m cooking. In fact, when I bring out the salad spinner (a gift from a wedding shower thrown for me in my hometown’s church basement), it’s like a can of tuna is calling a cat. Vivian and William leap towards the spinner, fight over it, and compromise long enough to perform some Grade 1 science experiments.
William, in particular, has perfected his salad spinning technique: he spins the salad at warp speed, removes the lid, watches centrifugal force in action, and laughs as leaves of Romaine launch into kitchen air space.
So there I was, picking lettuce off the floor and tossing it into a bowl when I hear the salad spinner in action again, this time sans lettuce. “Get another one,” William instructed. Vivian ran to the toy box and back again in less time than it takes me to slice off my finger cutting tomatoes.
She hands something to William, who deposits it in the spinner and starts cranking. It’s at this point I said this:
William said, “Just toys, Mom.”
I looked inside the salad spinner and, sure enough, blocks and Lego pieces were getting the ride of their life.
I stopped hacking tomatoes and added my favourite ingredients, Thing One and Thing Two.
And spin they did in a miniature tilt-a-whirl.
In a few months, when I’m moaning about my kids’ birthday, remind me to forgo more plastic crap from Toys R’ Us and purchase some kitchen gadgets instead. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll get to this resolution by then.