There were no photos staged or taken. No cutesy videos either. Not a single sight or sound constructed or reconstructed to share with the world. A tree goes boom, whether anyone is there to hear it fall or not.
There was only my 7-year-old daughter and I righting a wrong in the kitchen. Just the two of us sweating it out on an unseasonably warm mid-October evening, making chicken parm from scratch. Egg wash, panko, frying pan, sauce, cheese, oven. You know the drill. But she didn’t. I needed to correct that parenting fail. This is why I am now letting my kids cook dinner.
Mouse said during our last trip, randomly as she often will, spitting verses like a deranged rapper, that she “loves to cook.” Those three quickly muttered words were a 10″ Chef’s knife into my heart. What have I done? Her love of cooking is theoretical, a fanciful idea she has, like saying you love Mexican food because you serve Tostitos Scoops with your Italian hoagie. I don’t invite my daughters, either of them, into my kitchen nearly enough to justify such a declarative statement of love. And when I do, they mime the actions, pouring in already portioned amounts of this or that –> stir –> run off to continue playing. That is no more cooking than reciting the alphabet is writing a book. Things changed on Tuesday night, with the Chicken Parmesan, diced fresh veggie medley, pasta and naan. Wednesday night too: buttermilk banana pecan pancakes. She cooked, in the real sense of the word. She chopped with the Chef’s knife. She did it all, no play acting. She was in the weeds.
I’m not gonna say this is some cosmic shift in how I parent because, shit, she and/or I might fall back into our regularly scheduled programing or maybe we’ll have a disagreement about how to pinch salt atop the haricot verts and it all might go to hell in a flash, but this feels real good right now. And right now is the currency I trade in as a dad. I can’t alter the past and the only way to impact the future is by doing the work right now today. I am changing my routine, one that has had me alone in the kitchen prepping, cooking and cleaning, because my little girl loves to cook. Cook she shall.
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