When I was little, I was fortunate to have a mother who encouraged kitchen exploration. I frequently pulled my chair up to the counter to "help" with whatever she was working on. I remember being 8 and making homemade applesauce and chocolate chip cookies that turned out like hockey pucks (as my dad termed them). Regardless of outcome, I was encouraged and supported from those early days.
I, remember pretending to be my mom, creating with her pots and pans, particularly while she cleaned up (who really wants to help clean up anyway?). I smile when my little guy asks for a "spoon".
And of course the good old drum concert. Who could forget that? The more obnoxious the noise is, the bigger my smile.
While some may think these memories would bring me sadness (my mom passed away when I was 15), it's actually the contrary. I smile thinking of all those wonderful memories. I'd rather have 15 years of a fantastic mom rather than a lifetime of a mediocre mother. My heart sings to think I'm creating the same wonderful memories with my little guy as she created with me. I feel thankful that I had a mother who loved me and cared to teach me.
And you know what is really neat? Pretty soon, I'll be creating in the kitchen with two little helpers. Isn't life grand?
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