Little Chef

My husband I both love to cook. We are constantly looking for new recipes and fun little cooking gadgets to play with. By Friday afternoon our minds are aflurry with just one question: What should we cook this weekend?

Our love of cooking has now apparently trickled down to the little man. Little man has always loved food. While he does exhibit some typical 3-year-old pickiness, little man is definitely a foodie.

His favorites are pasta alfredo and french onion soup.

Yes, you read that right.

French onion soup. He can't get enough of it.

Lately, however, little man has been showing an interest in more than just eating food.

For Christmas, little man got a little toy grill, complete with little plastic hamburgers, hot dogs, and even set of grilling tools. He insisted on putting it outside next to daddy's grill, however when we explained it was too cold outside for it, he settled on a spot in the kitchen. Nearly every night he opens up his grill and cooks something for us. Now that the weather is getting nicer, we have let him sneak his grill outside, where he will park it next to daddy's grill and imitate daddy's every move, from cleaning the grill with the grill brush, to every flip and turn.

However, his love of cooking doesn't extend to just grilling.

When I am making muffins, I am almost certainly guaranteed help. The minute I break out the muffin pan, little man quickly jumps, runs to get his step stool and takes his place next to me, helping me scoop the batter into the tins. When we put them into the oven, I must keep the oven light on so that little man can see them cooking.

Nearly every time we are cooking something on the stove top, little man will beg us to please lift him up to see it. Even if it's just Hamburger Helper, little man carefully watches each move we make.

Little man even insists we forward through nearly the first quarter of Ratatouille. He could care less about the rats and how they came to be in the city. He wants us to skip ahead to the kitchen, where the cooks are busy chopping, sauteing and stewing.

"I want the cooking," little man will say. "I no like this part."

Even just this weekend, while we were visiting Grammy Jo, a large thunderstorm rolled in just as we had heated up the grill for dinner. Despite the thunder and dark, gray skies, little man could not be dissuaded.

With his tongs in his hand, little man insisted he help daddy flip the steaks.

"But buddy, it's raining outside. You should stay in here and just watch me," my husband said while opening the patio door.

"No daddy, I help," little man insisted.

"But it's raining," my husband said as he knelt down to explain to little man why he needed to stay inside.

"Daddy, let's go cook!" Little man said, as he tapped daddy on the chest with his grilling tongs. He was determined to brave the storm and help daddy.

And with that, daddy and the little man braved the thunder and cold rain. Little man insisted on helping, despite the rain and booming thunder.

"Mommy, I help daddy cook!" Little man said when he returned, his blond hair wet from the rain and his eyes beaming.

And later that night we dined on perfectly grilled steaks. Cooked with love by daddy and our own little chef.