One of my friends with whom I regularly cook, has an almost three-year old son who loves to play in the kitchen. A favorite activity is to open the spice drawer and pull out each individual jar and pretend to pour it onto the stove. This was great fun until the lid of white pepper came off and spilled all over.
Later, he sat with Uncle Tawn, using a pair of tongs to pick up appetizers and move them from pull to another. All fun and games until I caught him picking up a spear of asparagus, briefly chewing the end of it, and then putting it back on the platter!
I’m glad he enjoys cooking so much, though. When he grows up to be a famous chef, we’ll be able to say that we knew he was destined for the kitchen, even when he was just a little fellow.
How about you? Were you welcome in the kitchen when you were a child? I remember being in the kitchen “helping” when I was no older than kindergarten and I was scrambling my own eggs by six or seven years old.