What they don’t tell you about having a tall curious child… (Late Post)

I always wondered, Lord why do I have such a keen sense of smell? I can smell odd things like heat, electricity and bugs.  My husband used to laugh at me about it when we  were dating, “You can smell ants, I’m not dealing with you. Smelling each seasoning in a dish, that’s ridiculous!” Then as our lives progressed and he noticed how my sense of smell increased after having our son he started feeling sorry for me. 

Today, the years of honing my superpower/ curse paid off.

My son is very intrigued by culinary arts. His birthday theme for his 5th was to turn our house into his signature restaurant.  He made his first pancakes at the age of 2, with my assistance with everything hot and only flipping at his command.  His favorite place is the kitchen. His favorite thing to do is learn something new about food. Keep that thought.

I’ve been working from home since Ash Wednesday 2020. We’ve established a family norm of my son  living a little life on his own when I’m on work calls.  This year he can read a little so he’s got worksheets to complete to earn rewards.  In the middle of his working on his worksheet, he proclaims,

“I’m too hungry to continue!”

“Go grab some food and come back!”

I say because the other norm in my house is making sure he always has Grab&Go food that I can trust,  applesauce, fruit, cereal, toaster waffles etc. I continue working focusing on solving the problem of the moment when some time goes by and I start to smell “heat”. The clanking in the kitchen didn’t alarm me because this child of mine adds cinnamon or ginger to his applesauce. I call him back to my office.

“Are you fixing your food?”

“Yes.” abrupt silence.

“Is the stove on?”

“Yes.”

“Are you making eggs with daddy?”

“Yes, well no.” antsy to return to the kitchen.

I leave my seat and we hurry back to the kitchen. Butter, eggs, skillet… toast dropped and waiting. 

I give a strong speech on kitchens needing grown-ups and how everything could have burned down while also attending to the butter that browned too much and resetting his skillet temp. He cracked and cooked 5 eggs using his kid-sized spatula.

Had I not smelled the heat along with clocking his alone time who knows. Fortunately, he’s obsessed with cooking shows and learning kitchen safety with me and his father so he had a decent setup minus a few missteps. His middle name is Grey because that’s what he does to my hair. 

We are just fine, but we are not OK. 

Nothing burned. No injuries. Fluffy hot breakfast served… then thrown out because homefriend didn’t get all the shells out.  It looked and smelled good though.