Bayba

Couldn't you just die?

I once heard a radio interview with a woman dispensing child rearing advice.  She was asked a question about how to raise 'joyful servants' - well trained kids who pitch in and help, who know that's just what you do.  Her response has always stuck with me:  start early and accept imperfection.

Classic Bayba

I'm guessing I heard this sometime around the turn-of-the-millenium, and I remember thinking  'oh crap, I blew that'  with regards to Corey and Noah, who were already in full-time school.  But with Dylan, at least in the kitchen, I started early. 

Dylan was two when Noah went to kindergarten, so we had several years of the two of us at home full time before he started full day school.  His nickname back then was Bayba, shortened from Baby D, shortened from Baby Dylan.   I learned early on that he would be VERY happy for a long stretch if I backed a step stool up to the sink and filled it with warm water and tons of dish soap so Bayba could play with the "bubbies."  Gradually that moved into giving him a piece of tupperware to 'clean' (very clean.)  And, eventually, we started cooking together.  I started assigning him simple cooking chores, like chopping onions.  KIDDING.  In truth, we baked a lot. I'd have him measure out a teaspoon of salt, or scoop out flour with the measuring cup, or mix cookie dough with a wooden spoon.    Dylan is a very methodical person and he enjoys the precision of baking.   He learned, over time, that if you go wild with the spoon the flour goes flying.  He learned to mix the ingredients by inverting instead of swirling.  He learned how to use a hand mixer.  He learned the smell of vanilla and how to crack an egg.  And gradually I moved from coaching to observing. 

And now?  At age 13?  He is the chief baker in the house.

I was struck by this last week when I stopped home after a doctor's office and before heading to work.  At the table were Dylan and two of his friends, with a batch of freshly made strawberry pancakes in front of them.  Dylan complained that there was only enough bisquick to make a half batch and he didn't feel like making them from scratch.  I asked why he didn't make french toast and he complained that he was doing all the cooking while Leo and Charlie got to play XBox.  They both nodded in agreement.  So I suggested he make the french toast but that the other boys had to clean up.  They both nodded in agreement.  Dylan got to work, pulling out bread, eggs, milk, vanilla & cinnamon.  When I came back downstairs this is what I saw:

 Start early.
Accept imperfection.
Savor the rewards!