Cooking with Elli: Saturday Morning Scrambled Eggs

"Let's raid the pantry, Elli!" The legs of her footed pajamas were a blur as she raced to the kitchen. I followed behind her, gathering my bedhead hair up in a ponytail. She threw open the pantry door and began to dig for ingredients as I retrieved the eggs, milk and cheese from the refrigerator. Elli laid out her selections on the floor for my inspection. "Well, Elli, let's go without the Crystal Light this time," I said. But I did take the can of mushrooms. Instead of putting the Crystal Light back in the pantry, however, Elli brought it up her steps with her to the counter. So be it. "First thing we do, Elli, is crack the eggs." "Cack eggs," she said. "Can you count them as I put them in the bowl?" Count she did, with a few prompts along the way. "Un, two, fee, fowr, fife, sicks, sefen, eight." She watched me as I beat the yolks up with some milk, and answered my question of what color the yolks were with her current standard answer, "Red." The standard answer used to be "bu" so whether that's progress I'll let you decide. By this point in our cooking adventures, all I have to do is show Elli a bag of shredded cheese and she knows exactly what to do with it. For those of you who have gone with us on adventures before, you may be surprised to learn that she did not try to eat any of the cheese this time. She must have been saving room for a mushroom. She plucked her choice from the open can, took three chews, then prompty took the crumpled mushroom from her mouth and handed it to me. "Doon ike it," she said. "You don't like it," I repeated. "Well, that's OK. You don't have to like them. But can you put the mushrooms in the eggs anyway?" "Time for the seasoning," I told her. "See the yellow bottle? Can you grab that?" "Yah-yo," she said, scanning the counter. She quickly found it, snatched it up and turned it upside down over the bowl. I had to say nothing. Again, my little fast learner knew exactly what to do. "Shake, shake," she said. And shake, shake she would continue to do had I not redirected her. Let's just say when we eat out, we have to move the salt and pepper shakers to another table. "That's good, Elli," I said. "That looks like the perfect amount. What do you think we do now?" "Do now," she repeated, her voice rising a little at the end, mimmicking my questioning tone. "We stir!" "Ter!" I handed her a spoon and off she went. I have heard before how rapidly kids advance in their skills, but seeing Elli stir round and round today really amazed me. This time last month her little hands would pull off the spoon after two rotations. Now she shows the moves of an expert...even in how she tries to scoop the cheese up with the spoon, egg batter dripping everywhere, and drop it on the counter. At this point I set her to what I call the administrative side of cooking: cleaning up, throwing things away, putting things back the fridge, etc. As my mom always used to tell me, doing dishes is part of cooking. Of course, now I understand her true motive to that imperative, but still, she makes a good point. Besides, Elli doesn't seem to mind that part.
While the eggs cooked, we made toast from 12-grain bread and spread on some homemade (although not by me) apple butter. Well, actually, I made toast and apple butter; she found herself sucked into an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. I can't be mad at that. She is a kid, after all, and it was Saturday morning.