By Guest Author Patrick Doud
One of my five-year-old’s favorite pastimes is pretending to cook. Manhandling the folding metal stepstool into place (which, he would tell you if you were there to see it, shows how strong he is), he takes all the spices off the shelves, pulls half the cans and jars from the pantry, and pretends to mix everything up in a pot on the kitchen table.
A lot of his recipes call for nine cups of every ingredient. He always forgets to put meat in meatballs. Sometimes he hosts a cooking show, called Cooking Ideas.
He chooses to spend a lot of his free time this way every day, taking time off from his lightsabers, his Legos, his favorite TV shows, and his music.
Most of the dishes in his mental cookbook don’t sound fancy: things like oatmeal, apple pie, and one he created himself, “cup sauce”. They sound simple, but since half the kitchen goes into these dishes, only he knows what each tastes like.
The game has grown from pretending to cook to pretending to make meals. As well as the kitchen, this involves the china cabinet and the dining room table. Teacups, saucers, bowls, shot glasses, wine goblets, and other highly breakable items are laid out in an impressive spread on the table. (So far nothing’s been broken, and as I watch him come down the stepping stool with a china gravy boat in his hands, I try to reassure myself that not only is his coordination benefitting, but also his sense of responsibility.) He then fills everything with imaginary oatmeal, or imaginary cup sauce, or whatever the dish is that day, and invites me to partake. DELICIOUS!
One result of this play: because he now knows his way around the kitchen and dining room very well, he’s become a huge help making a real meal. While I work away at, say, the cutting board, he can bring me ingredients and dishes as I need them. I can ask him to get me the white cooking wine, for example, and he knows exactly what and where that is. (This is also a huge help because it keeps him out of trouble while I’m trying to make dinner.)
Maybe the best thing of all is that it comes from him. My wife and I never suggested that he pretend to cook; we only encouraged him in little ways once he started.
As I worry about whether or not he’s getting too much of certain activities, and ineptly try to make sure that he’s getting enough of everything—that his life has some balance, essentially—I am gratified to see that he is finding that balance on his own.
About the Author: Patrick Doud is a stay-at-home dad who writes fantasy novels and poems on the side. The first two novels in a series called The Winnitok Tales, about a boy lost in another world, were recently published by North Atlantic Books. You can find out more about him and his work at winnitoktales.com and at patrickdoud.com.
