I read this the other day:
“Just as it is good to get one’s fingers into the soil and plant seeds, so it is good to get one’s fingers and fists into bread dough to knead and punch it. There is something very positive in being involved in the creativity which is so basic to life itself. Home-made bread, home-made cakes and pies, home-made vegetable soup from home-grown vegetables or from vegetable market purchases, home-made jams and jellies, home-made relishes and pickles–these are almost lost arts in many homes. For growing children at play, there is nothing so interesting as ‘doing things’. To ‘help cook’ is one of the most enjoyable things of childhood–to say nothing of being a sure way of producing good cooks. A child can cut up carrots at a very early age, with no more risk of injury than from falling down outside at play! A child can mix and stir, knead the dough and be given a piece to make a roll man, cat or rabbit with raisin eyes. A child can fry eggs or make scrambled eggs–one of mine did every morning from the age of three! The kitchen should be an interesting room in which communication takes place between child and mother and also among adults. It should be interesting in the same way as is an artist’s studio, as well as being a cosy spot in which to have a cup of tea while something is being watched or stirred, or while waiting to take something out of the oven.”
~ Edith Schaeffer
First of all, I have to tell you all that yesterday morning I woke up with zero desire to take care of my house and children. I was grumpy and I could not bear the thought of another day. . .of Caleb having accidents in his pants, David losing his temper, Grace disappearing outside, Jacob and Ethan being loud and well. . .LOUD, being too hot, the hours too long to fill, not wanting to clean, oh I had myself all worked up from the moment I opened my eyes! All I could think was that I wanted a DAY OFF.
PRAISE GOD I remembered to pray! Before the children were even awake, I was on my knees telling the Lord how I was feeling and asking Him for strength. I told Him I wanted to glorify Him with my day.
And, do you know, the miracle of prayer never ceases to amaze me because those feelings all flew away instantly! I came out of my bedroom to find Caleb bending over his choo-choos and looking into their round faces. And that is where the other children found me, sitting on the floor with Caleb. They all came down and gathered around with us and we had a fine ol’ time, playing with the trains and talking, everyone still in their pj’s with sleepy eyes. I was amazed at how unified I felt with them, when just a few minutes before, I wanted to run away!
Then it was time for breakfast and I let David make it! His confidence level has soared to never-before seen heights, because of his newly discovered talent. He cracked all the eggs, stirred them up (I poured the milk in), added salt and pepper, and added them to the pan (after I heated it up and added butter so they wouldn’t stick). He stirred them until they were cooked and was so proud to sit at the table and hear us all compliment him on his eggs.
He was so so CUTE!
And, guess what? Later on, after we were home from shopping and it was late afternoon, I caught him in the kitchen going at it again TWO MORE TIMES! He is the “mad egg scrambler”. I had to make a new rule for him.
“You are not allowed to scramble eggs unless you ask first”
When his Daddy got home from work, he heard every detail, in David’s happy little voice.
I can’t tell you the last time I had to mop up SO many raw eggs. Ew.
Also, one of my fiesta bowls got smashed. (Not the one in the picture, thankfully!)
But it was all worth it.
So. Should Caleb have a turn this morning? After all, if Mrs. Shaeffer’s three year old could scramble eggs, I’m SURE that my three year old can! To be continued. . . . . .
(Caleb, 3 years old, stirring his eggs)
Hi~ I’m back~ Bless his heart, the little guy did it! He was so cute. I had to keep my hands on his hands to crack the eggs, he laughed as we broke them into the bowl. He stirred them up just fine but I did raise my voice in excitement a few times when I caught him attempting to taste his mixture. The stove was nerve-wracking, I had to stay very close to him to make sure he didn’t burn his little paws.
David was scrambling his own eggs at the same time, with an air of authority. Look at him, keeping an eagle eye on his little brother:
Caleb was proud of his eggs, in a shy way:
You did a good job, baby!