I started cooking this evening’s dinner while the kids were still at the park with the nanny. When they walked in, I was still in the kitchen. All three ran in yelling “can we help? can we help?” I absolutely love it when the kids want to participate in dinner preparation. On a related note, it kills me when the kids want to participate but the only remaining tasks involve hot oil, sizzling bacon, a 600 degree grill, or something similarly unsuitable for kids. So even though I was effectively finished with the preparation, I told the kids they could make some fruit salad. We frequently buy whatever fruit is in season (which is generally a lot here in California) and serve it at the end of dinner. Tonight’s twist: I told the kids they were going to do 100% of the work. I wasn’t going to get anything from the fridge, get a knife out of the knife block, get a cutting board out of the cabinet, nothing.
Once the kids got all of the ingredients, I directed them (without touching) to the appropriate knives. I gave them only some basic instructions. (When my 8-year-old got a little confused by the anatomy of a strawberry, I drew a diagram rather than showing her on an actual strawberry so I could stay true to my kids-do-all-the-work policy).
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