(This is my second time to write this, stupid internet decided to disconnect right when I hit the publish button – grumble grumble grumble) 🙂
For some reason Jacob is inexplicably drawn to the kitchen – well, maybe not inexplicably. It is , after all, where all the food is. We have to keep a gate across the entrance (a very tall gate that he cannot climb) to keep him from playing with dirty and clean dishes (trying to wash them), invading the fridge, emptying the cupboards, and playing with large sharp objects. It just figures that the first drawer he discovers is the knife drawer, which I put a very quick kabash on, and thankfully he stays away from that one now.
Even though we try our hardest to keep him out of the kitchen he is allowed in there when I am, as long as he is now causing chaos while I am trying to cook. Yesterday he wandered in while I was working in the kitchen and spotted the thawing chicken on a plate on the counter. Intrigued he couldn’t help reaching a chubby hand up to pat its icy coldness.
“Don’t touch,” I said as I scooped him up and carried him over to the sink. After a good hand scrubbing, I plopped him back on the floor. He scanned the kitchen, no dought searching for a towell on which to dry his dripping hands. Of course there were none (I got the laundry done, but is it put away? Of course not, I’m not super mom you know. 🙂 That is today’s project – I hope). He proceeds to walk over to the oven, where a towell would usually hang, and beginds to run his wet hands all along the bar and down the front of the oven door. Satisfied that he has taken care of the worst of the drips he scampers off to his next activity leaving me to stare at the drips running down the oven door and dissolve into giggles.
Fast forward to 30 minutes or so before dinner and I am once again in the kitchen. The meat loaf is in the oven (the chicken was for my lunch), the salad is made, and I am husking corn for our first delicious corn on the cob of the summer. Jacob comes in dragging a chair, thump-thumping, behind him. He finds himself an oven mitt, measuring cup, old pot, and a wooden spoon and plops them all on the counter beside me. With a loud grating noise he scoots the chair the rest of the way up agains the counter. Up he climbs, triumphantly waving a mitted hand in the air. He proceeds to “cook” and after a bit, growing bored, he notices the salt and pepper shakers. He begins to empty small ammounts into his pot, and I let him because real moms don’t mind a bit of salt and pepper wasted or a tiny mess from time to time. He stirs some more and upon sampling his goopy gloppy invisible concoction lets out a self satisfying, “AHHHH!” and then, of course I am offered a sample of the glorious cooking, which I find to be very good indeed and copy his, “AHHHH!”
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch him licking the top of the pepper shaker! I am not astounded at the licking part – what kid hasn’t attempted it and succeeded before, I am amazed at the fact that it was the pepper and not the salt, and that he repeated the action. I like pepper, so at least I know he takes after me. 🙂 I have a little pepper lover on my hand – he always has been rather peppy…. ok, corny bad joke, couldn’t resist, sorry. 🙂
Don’t worry though, I will clean the shaker – that is unless I see the shiny clean top and, forgetting that I haven’t done it yet, think I have already cleaned it. So, who wants to come over for dinner tonight? heh 🙂