As Kris will joke (inevitably, at every family function like a holiday version of the movie "Groundhog's Day"), I am not a cook, and the first (and last) time I cooked a meal was the first time he met my family. Once I reeled him in, the cooking ended.
Well, my 11 year drought recently ended. There is this miraculous invention called "CrockPot." It's glorious. It allows me to throw a bunch of things independently into a pot, and when I return at the end of a day of work, I have prepared a delicious and healthy meal for my family.
I've realized through doing this that I actually don't hate cooking. There's something very satisfying about it. And I've even started experimenting and coming up with my own ideas. I don't always know how to turn my ideas into something edible, so I frequently google the two or three ingredients I'm thinking of to produce a recipe.
The recipe I made last night was Chocolate Chip Pumpkin bread. I had canned pumpkin left over from the fall/winter (where I was convinced I'd one day attempt to make pumpkin soup...never happened).
I waited until the boys got home, and then my little apprentice chef (Luke) help with dinner. He is an accomplished pigs in a blanket roller. But the real treat for him was helping me make the pumpkin bread.
Matthew also tried to help, but his involvement was ultimately limited to eating some of the chocolate chips I set aside for my "helpers." He enjoyed them. So much so that he slid off his chair during dinner and crawled under the table to retrieve one he must have dropped. And because he's the second child, I didn't stop him from eating it right off the floor.
He goes to daycare. I'm sure there are worse things he puts into his mouth during the day.
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