I’ll always remember the Mother’s Day my son who had just turned 8 and his 5 year old brother came into the bedroom where I was still enjoying some rest. They had made breakfast for me. The older boy had made pancakes from scratch, trying to copy what he had seen me do a number of times, using whole wheat flour, milk, eggs, baking powder and butter, with some raisins thrown in too. He knew to mix the dry ingredients and the wet ingredients separately, before combining them, but he couldn’t figure out how I got the butter in. So he cut it into small pieces and added to the batter. Pancakes were delicious with little pockets of melted butter throughout. By nine, they would often wash their own laundry. When about 7 I was teaching them to cook. I would make soup or a stew, give them a little taste and have them smell herbs and spices and decide whether to add some. When he was 8 or 9 the younger boy decided to make chile, and flavored it with dill weed. Different, but good. They love to cook with their families and my grandchildren.
My son isn’t quite four yet, and he insists on helping us cook, do laundry, etc.
He even enjoys zip lining.