Choosy Toddlers Choose Jif Shakes

Elli has this routine of picking out one thing to take with her on the car ride to daycare each morning. She tends to pick a baby doll or a stuffed toy or a book. Sometimes she asks for a graham cracker. Once she chose to take a single toy french fry from her play kitchen ensemble. Her selection the other day, however, left me dumbfounded: a 48 oz jar of Jif peanut butter.

I don't remember all the events that led up to Elli grabbing the jar from cabinet. I remember there being some tears over having to turn off Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and the tears stopped once she had her hands on the Jif. From the way she looked up at me out of the corner of her eye, I gathered she was preparing for me to protest her selection. But I didn't, and all you moms can probably guess why. 1) The Jif stopped her fit, and it took zero effort from me -- I have only so much to give at 7 a.m., 2) peanut butter won't spoil in the car and 3) it was all I could do to keep from laughing.

So, off we marched to the car, me lugging my work bag and Elli hugging the jar of Jif. She took up half her carseat, the procured-from-Costco jar took up the other half. It was so insanely funny, I had to get a picture of it. I tried, believe me, but Elli, still in a bit of a foul mood, saw me pull out my iPhone and said, "No, no, no pictures, Mommy!" In honor of Elli's display of affection for peanut butter, I sought out a recipe centered on sticky stuff. Turns out, Jif was waiting for just such a move. The Jif website contains not only a selection of fun recipes using their product but also a whole section on cooking with kids, the benefits it provides kids, etc. It even includes a picture of a mom cooking with a toddler/preschooler daughter. Nicely played, clever Jif. Right on the heart strings. How could I not choose one of your recipes after that? And here it is:

Jif Shakes

1 cup cold milk
1/4 cup Jif Creamy Peanut Butter
1 cup vanilla ice cream (or in my case, frozen yogurt)

Place milk and Jif in blender container. Cover and blend until smooth. Add ice cream; blend until smooth.

So, I wasn't sure how this was going to taste or how much I would like it because I am a milkshake traditionalist: chocolate is all there is. But I was sure that Elli would try to stick her fingers in the jar of Jif, and the frozen yogurt for that matter. This concerned me a little, having once had to clean peanut butter out of Elli's ear. But, as Elli had already demonstrated, she can be expected to do the opposite of expectations. Maybe she would leave me dumbfounded again and keep her paws out of the treats.

Maybe.

We dived in. We didn't exactly follow the instructions of mixing the milk and peanut butter first because, well, I didn't read that part. We just started dumping.

Elli helped me scoop the frozen yogurt into a Pyrex measuring cup.

At least she did for a few scoops. That was about as long as she could hold out before trying to put her face in the carton. I quickly dumped the scoops into the blender and moved the carton out of her reach.

"Moving on," I said. "Let's measure some milk." I poured the milk into the freshly emptied measuring cup, and Elli helped me pour it into the blender cannister.

"Beautiful," I said. "Now it's time to meaure out some peanut butter. We need to fill this measuring cup with peanut butter." I grabbed a hard scrapper and began to scoop the peanut butter into the measuring cup. "Can you help me scoop?" Elli didn't make a move. She just watched the activity at the opening of the jar. Like a panther in the weeds. As soon as I moved the measuring cup away to scrap the peanut butter into the blender, she pounced.

By the time I looked over at her, her entire forearm was hidden in the jar.

"Better save room for your milkshake," I told her. As soon as she removed her arm from the jar and stuck her fingers in her mouth, I snatched the jar, put the lid back on and slid the jar to the other end of the counter.

With all the ingredients now safely in the blender, it was time to blend. My blender has a "milkshake" setting, so we knew exactly which button to push. I pointed to it and said, "Can you push this button?"

"ow'd," Elli said.

"Yes, sweetie, it is going to be loud. Be ready for it. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"All right, hit the button."

The blender whirled and Elli laughed. We even danced a little to the noise.

When all was done, I poured some in a little mug for Elli and two big mugs for Daddy and myself. Elli slurped it up.

"Mmm, dats good!" she announced.

"It sure is good!" I said.

"It needs chocolate," Daddy said.

Small critique aside, the Jif Shakes were very tasty and satisfying. A little goes a long way with the rich peanut butter, but we all agreed we would defintely make them again. In fact, just a few days later, Elli got up from the supper table asking for her "steps." When we asked her if she needed her steps because she planned to cook something, she went over to the cabinet and pulled out the Jif. Enough said. We all enjoyed another round of Jif shakes, with just a dab of chocolate.

Things Elli Could Do:
Inspire a cooking session
Help scoop the frozen yogurt
Help pour milk
Pounce on the open jar of Jif like a panther
Push the blender button

Overall Jif Shakes Ratings (5 being the best):
Elli-friendly cooking: 5
Elli-friendly eating: 5+
Simple: 5
Fast: 5
Frugal: 5

Question of the week: Will you try this recipe?

Special Agent Elli and the Bubble Pizza

Parenthood by nature includes a groundswell of advice and tips from others. Most of the tips and advice I don't mind because I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.

The other day a newsletter on toddler rearing landed in my inbox from Johnson and Johnson. One of the headlines caught my eye. It had to do with playing a game with your toddler involving simple, repeatable steps. I would have read the article had not my iPhone lost service in the elevator on the way to my office. In the 2-minute elevator ride, which included silly jabber with co-workers about the weather and weekend plans, I lost track of what I was doing and was on to something far less interesting to you. But, my mind did retain the memory of the headline, and later it got me thinking about ways I could make a cooking adventure into more of a game for Elli.

The key was to find the right recipe. My Trusty Taste of Home cookbook came through for me. Allow me to introduce you to...

Bubble Pizza (an adapted version)

1 pound pork sausage

1 can pizza sauce

1/2 cup chopped green pepper

1/2 cup chopped red pepper

1/2 cup chopped yellow pepper

1/4 cup red onion cut into small strips

2 tubes refrigerated jumbo biscuits

1 1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese

1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

In a skillet, brown sausage; drain. In mixing bowl, stir together veggies and pizza sauce; set aside. Quarter biscuits and place in greased 13x9x2 backing dish. Top with veggie mixture and sausage. Bake uncovered at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes. Sprinkle with cheeses. Bake 5-10 minutes longer or until cheese is melted. Let stand for 5-10 minutes before serving.

I call this an adapted version because 1) Daddy read "biscuits" on the shopping list and brought home the jumbo version, which, as it turns out, make a wonderful thick crust; and 2) I added the veggies to make the pizza more supreme like.

The game was also an adaptation, from one of Elli's favorite television shows, Special Agent Oso. For those of you unfamiliar, here's a rundown: Disney Channel, James Bond-ish bear, completes assignments in "three special steps, that's all you need, three special steps, and you'll succeed" (oh yes, the lyrics are seared into my brain; ask me to recite them if you ever find yourself in an elevator with me). To create the game, I first broke the recipe into levels. Then, each level I broke into three steps.

Level one: Prep the Peppers

Step one: Find the peppers - I stationed Elli next to me at the sink, with her on her "steps."

"Elli, we need a yellow pepper, a green pepper and a red pepper. Can you find the yellow pepper?"

She scanned the counter. "There it is!" she exclaimed, pointing her little finger at the yellow pepper.

"Very good. We'll put that in the sink so we can wash it. Now can you find the red pepper?" She did, and she easily found the green pepper.

Step two: Wash the peppers - She tried her best to squeeze the trigger of the veggie wash bottle, but her hands were just too small. Her hands were big enough to hold each pepper under the water to rinse them off, though. Step three: Chop the peppers - We moved over to the counter where I had the cutting board set up. To keep her fingers out of the red zone of the knife, I first cut some strips of each pepper for her to taste. You may remember her love-at-first-sight moment with the green pepper in the "Colors of the Mexican Chip Casserole" adventure. The passion has not yet cooled. She ate so much of the peppers, I had to move the pile of chopped peppers away from her outstretched arm.

Level two: Saucy

Step one: Put veggies in bowl - "Special Agent Elli, there are just so many veggies in this big pile," I said with the faux drama Oso uses. "Do you think we can move alllll of them into the bowl?"

"Yes," Elli said confidently.

"Let's do it!"

"Do it," she echoed as she scooped up her first handful and plopped it in the bowl.

"Eddi moof veddies," she told me.

"Yes, Elli is moving the veggies, and she is doing a terrific job." She really was. Not a single one hit the floor. Meanwhile, I started the meat to browning. Though the original recipe calls for ground beef, I used pork sausage because I'm still working through The Gift of a Fourth of a Pig. For those keeping tabs, I'm down to seven pounds of the sausage.

Step two: Add pizza sauce - "Now we take this can and we pour the sauce all over the veggies. Are you ready?" She answered by grabbing the can. I helped her move the can over the bowl and tilt it for the sauce to run out. "Beautiful. Now what do you think we should do?"

"Do?" she asked back.

"Do you think we should sniff it?"

Elli paused, then answered, "No."

"Do you think we should kick it?"

She smiled. "Nnnoooo."

"Do you think we should stir it?"

"Yes!" Step three: Stir - I handed her the spoon and she dug in, with a little help from me.

Level three: It's dough time

Step one: Tear and place the dough - She only thought she loved to stir. That's because she had yet to meet the dough. I opened each can of biscuits and formed four small stacks of dough on the cutting board. I replaced the bowl of saucy veggies with the greased baking pan. The recipe says to quarter the biscuits. Toddlers don't do neat quarters. Toddlers do random tearing very well, however. So, I decided to just let Elli go at it and hope the dough, regardless of size, baked well all the same. I showed her how to peel one biscuit off the stack and "tear, put in the pan; tear, put in the pan." It was a nice, rhythmic task. While I finished browning the meat, she went to town.

We leveled the small mountain of dough she had formed on one side of the pan and then moved on to step two: Scoop on the saucy veggies - "We take our spoon, we dip it into the sauce like this, and we pour it like this," I said, and repeated the process a few times for her. Then I let her take over. Right away I realized I should have specified where to pour the sauce. Thank goodness for wipeable cookbook pages. "Pour the sauce on the dough like Mommy did," I told her, and that simple clarification was all she needed.

While she continued on with the scooping, I removed the meat from the heat to cool. Did you know that the amount of time it takes a toddler to scoop out a bowl of saucy veggies is equivalent to the amount of time it takes for a pound of sausage to cool?

Step three: Add the meat - Elli was not interested in step three. She instead wanted to play with the "puzzoos" on my iPhone. I set her up at the kitchen table with the puzzles app and added the sausage myself. Later I made sure she was fully distracted when it came time to add the cheese. She would have loved to help sprinkle the cheese, but Mommy would not have loved nursing burns on her hands from contact with a hot pan. There was no distracting her when it was time to serve up the pizza. She positioned herself at the table and called for "Eddi's supper."

She inhaled the pizza...except for the "icky" peppers. What a creature.

Things Elli Could Do:
Everything that did not involve a hot pan or knife

Overall Bubble Pizza Ratings (5 being the best):

Elli-friendly cooking: 5

Elli-friendly eating: 4

Simple: 5

Fast: 4

Frugal: 5

Question of the Week: How would you modify this recipe?

It's a Lasagna Toss Up

At Elli's last well-child visit, the pediatrician went through the list of milestones that kids her age should have reached: "Does she understand simple instructions?" "She gives simple instructions." "Can she say 50 words?" "Yes, sometimes in one long string." "Does she draw circles when coloring?" "Yes, and she counts to 20. I'm pretty sure she's a genius." The pediatrician politely pretended that she wasn't ignoring my statement. I guess she didn't believe that genius can be detected this early. She definitely didn't believe the wives tale I repeated to her that a child's adult height can be predicted by doubling her height at age 2. (If that's true, Elli will grow up to be about 5'10".) Well, that's the beauty of life, I guess. You can guesstimate all you want; life has a way of setting you straight. The other night, for instance, I was convinced that Elli would not be interested or be able to participate much in preparing supper. How small my mind is.

Weeknight Lasagna Toss

1 lb lean ground beef

2 cups chopped green peppers

3 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1 jar pasta sauce

1 2/3 cups water

1/4 cup Italian dressing

12 oven-ready lasagna noodles, broken into quarters

1 cup mozzarella cheese.

Brown meat in large saucepan or deep cast-iron skillet on medium heat; drain. Add peppers, garlic, sauce, water and dressing; bring to boil. Stir in noodles; reduce heat to medium-low. Cover. Cook, stirring occasionally, 10 to 15 minutes, or until noodles are tender. Remove from heat. Sprinkle with cheese. Cover and let stand five minutes or until cheese is melted.

Thank you Kraft Food and Family for this gem. I really did have every intention of making an actual lasagna, but work got in the way. So, I switched gears, landing on this wonderful little way of getting rid of some leftover lasagna noodles.

"Well, we have no green peppers, Elli. What should we use instead?"

"Wha stead?" she asked back.

"How about mushrooms?"

"Yyyyeah!"

"Awesome."

Last time Elli encountered mushrooms, she took two bites, spite it out and handed it to me. This time...

Toddlers are nothing if not fickle. While the meat browned, we dumped the sauce, water and garlic (I used three teaspoons of minced garlic -- huge time saver) into the mixing bowl with the "mussooms." Elli particularly enjoyed the task of shaking the bottle of Italian dressing before we poured it into the measuring cup.

"Shake it up well!" I told her.

"Sake, sake, sake," Elli chanted, her little locks flapping around her brow.

"My goodness, you are good at that! Like a paint mixer! I bet you're just as good at stirring. Am I right?" I handed her the spoon as I measured out the dressing. "Can you show Mommy the best way to stire?"

"Eddi ster!" She took the spoon with confidence and delight.

Her confidence soon met reality. You see, the bowl had a lot of liquid in it. Moving a spoon was not as easy as Elli probably imagined it to be. So her stirring ended up being more like dipping and lifting.

She did her best in the face of something unpredictable. "You're stirring so well, Elli. And that's a lot of stuff to stir."

"Stuff ster."

"A lot of stuff. Looks like you mixed it up really well. Thank you very much. Now, I have something you can try that you've never done before. Want to try?"

"Yyyeah!"

"All right, here's what we're going to do." I opened the box of lasagna noodles and pulled out a noodle. "See how loooong this noodle is?"

"Loooong!" Elli mimmicked.

"Right. It's too long. We need to make it short so it fits in our pot. Can you help me make it short?"

Elli nodded.

"Fantastic. Let me show you how we make a long noodle into a short noodle. Watch this. See, we take our hands and put them in the middle, and then we brrrreak it!" The noodles snapped in half. "Tah dah! Two short noodles!"

Elli giggled and reached for one of the halves.

"Can you break it again, make it shorter?" She took the noodle eagerly, positioned her hands near the middle and ...

"uhhhnn!"

"Keep trying."

"Uhhhhhhnnnn!" Snap!

Over and over we went from long to short, to shorter to shortest, until the last noodle was broken. We were left with pieces of noodles that, well, really didn't resemble quarters in any way shape or form.

"We made them bite-size, right, Elli?"

"Mmmhmmm."

"That's right." I threw the shards of noodles in the pot and cheered, "Yea! We did it!"

"Did dat!" Elli said with a huge, sweet smile spreading across her face.

"And I know something else Elli can do." I grabbed a box of garlic bread from the freezer and laid out a cookie sheet in front of Elli. "Can you get the slices of bread and put them on the cookie sheet?"

She did it perfectly, arranging the pieces of bread on the cookie sheet with precision (toddler precision, that is).

This kept her occupied long enough for me to tend to the toss. She even counted the pieces of bread for me...repeatedly, and sometimes she didn't stop at four. Just showing off, I think.

When I looked at the clock to make sure we were still on target to eat around our usual time, I realized that this recipe I had written off as Elli-friendly had in fact kept her busy for a good 20 minutes. "OK, so I was wrong," I said to myself.

I still contend, however, that Elli will be 5'10". Anyone want to place your bets?

Things Elli Could Do: Shake dressing, pour sauce, dump in "mussooms" stir sauce break noodles (though with help) place bread

Overall Lasagna Toss Ratings (5 being the best): Elli-friendly cooking: 4 Elli-friendly eating: 4 Simple: 5 Fast: 4 (compared to a regular lasagna, 5) Frugal: 4

Question of the Week: What have you underrated lately?

Lasagna Toss