I had made a promise at the very outset of this journey that I would do this only as long as Elli was interested in helping me cook on a regular basis. At the time, Elli was a tad shy of two years old and wanted to do what I was doing. Really, she wanted to eat (remember her trying to eat the green pepper through the produce bag?), but helping me create things was a joy for her too. This blog was a natural outgrowth of those times in the kitchen. Its purpose was to capture those times and be a blessing to those who know Elli and want to watch her grow.
For the past several months, I've been contemplating wrapping it up. Elli seems to have had many other things occupying her preschool self: writing her name, reading to Krista, playing tag, building with Legos, dreaming up worlds with Little People. And then, just a tad past her fourth birthday, Elli said she wanted to cook with me again.
How appropriate it was, then, that I happened to making a recipe that she had made toward the beginning of our little blog, a Taste of Home recipe called Bubble Pizza (see the first go-round for the full recipe). It was a great way to see how far she has come in two short years.
For starters, when I told her the first thing we needed to do was spray our 13x9 glass pan, she declared, "I can help you, Mommy!"
And she did, taking the can with one hand and pressing down on the nozzle with the other. She created both a nice coating on the pan and nice fog that engulfed us for several minutes.
Similar to last time, I started on browning the meat (turkey, of course) while Elli set about tearing up the biscuit dough for the crust.
"Take each biscuit," I told her, "and tear it in half. Then, put the pieces in a line in the pan."
"Okay," she replied, and set to work like an artist.
Her pieces were not the Skittle size of yore, and her line marched first around the perimeter of the pan instead of piling into a molehill in the center. Her budding mastery of spatial relationships shown brightly.
Elli's newest thing these days is smelling. She loves to smell everything. Every. Thing. Like she just discovered she had a nose. She frequently asks, loudly, regardless of proximity to other people in line at the checkout, "What's that smell?"
Should I have been surprised that she smelled the biscuit dough? Only if I was surprised that she asked to eat the biscuit dough. (A really cool video was supposed to appear here, but technology would not cooperate.)
Unlike last time, we deviated from the recipe a bit and added in spices I thought would jazz up the pizza. I brought out the garlic powder and basil from the spice cabinet. Elli helped me pour the pizza sauce into the pan with the meat and then we set about adding the spices. She popped open the garlic powder lid and took a whiff.
Delighted, she stuck the canister under my nose and said, "Smell this, Mommy."
"Wow, that's a strong smell. Should we add some to the sauce?"
"Yeah!"
Add is probably too gentle of a verb to use to describe a four-year-old's action. Dump indiscriminately is a more accurate.
"That's a lot of garlic," I said, looking at the heap of granules in the pan. I was convinced we would all be permeating the lovely stench for a month.
We put the basil on too and mixed it in. As I was stirring, she postulated, "I think we need more gaw-wic."
"No," I assured, "no, we do not."
Cheese time. Sprinkling cheese was something she has always loved to do.
Eating cheese she has always loved more. Old habits....
The swoosh of cheese shreds falling must have echoed into the living room, where the almost-1-year-old was chillin' before bathtime. Much like big sister, cheese is a favored food. Before long, I heard the thwap-thwap-thwap of chubby little hands smacking the kitchen floor. Silly me, at first I thought she was coming to simply watch her idol. I have a lot to learn as a mother:
Of course, I also have a lot to learn as a cook, as I discovered, after Elli had diligently covered the meat sauce with cheese, that we were to bake the pizza and then add the cheese.
"Oh well," I said. "It'll be fine. Let's do this thing."
I placed the pan in the over, closed the door and set the timer.
"Mommy, turn on the light so I can see the pizza," Elli said, sitting down on the floor in front of the stove to admire her creation.
"Oh, Elli, how nice," I replied and flipped on the light. "It's neat to watch what you've--"
"I'm going to go read!" she announced, and headed off to her room to find a book.
That, my friends, is the attention span of a four-year-old.
Over a delicious supper of Elli's special pizza, we discussed the prospect of adding another little chef to the kitchen team.
"This time next year, I bet Krista will be able to cook with us," I told my protege. "What do you think?"
"Yeah! We can make a cake for desert!"
"Yum. That sounds good."
"Yeah! A cake for my raccoon party for my 5 birthday!"
Yes. You read that correctly. Raccoon. My child wants a raccoon-themed fifth birthday. I can only imagine the possibilities.
Until then, we'll just have to stoke that seeming burning desire of Krista's to do what big sister does. After all, that's kind of how it started for Elli and me.
