The thing about cooking with kids is, I always assume it will be way more work for me. But yesterday afternoon when I told them the menu for dinner, they enthusiastically volunteered themselves as chefs. So after I skinned and de-fatted and washed the chicken I showed them what to do. They did it all with little mess, and a lot of silly conversation. How nice for me!
Observations by the budding chefs overheard:
"Weird. Raw chicken feels slimey slippery kind of jell-O-ey, except it has a bone."
" I am putting my chicken in a bath, a barbeque bath."
" I am massaging my chicken."
"You can't massage that chicken! We have to eat that!"
"Hurry, the chicken is tired of being in the bath and it wants to be in the crackers."
" Ma, we have to wash our hands again? I just did! Why do you have to wash your hands every time you touch raw chicken?"
And my favorite remark: "Mom, I'm tired of cooking. Will you finish?" Of course it was the last piece of chicken to go into the cracker mix.
Later, they were so proud of their efforts that they invited a friend over for dinner. I don't know how the topic came up but their little friend mentioned eating rabbit. One of the boys said "You can't eat rabbits! They are too cute!" Amen. I've trained them well. Boys after my own heart.
