How challah empowered my son

At his age, he could (according to certain web sites), be cracking, whisking and scrambling eggs, preparing salad vegetables and following simple recipes. He could probably boil up pasta, but I’m a little worried about him draining boiling water into the sink. Problem is, he has little interest in doing it for himself. Not with a Jewish mother in the kitchen feeding him on the hour every hour.

His sister is the opposite. She can’t wait to get in the kitchen — even when I’d rather she stayed out of my way so I can race through my cooking without mopping up after her.

She’s happy cracking and whisking eggs, whisking them; rubbing butter into flour (and all over my kitchen tops); assisting with biscuit and cake making; sandwich making – like a pro; peeling and cutting veggies. She loves to help any time she can. Admittedly she prefers to make sweet treats, but can be cajoled to help make supper.

MF1’s lesson in bread cutting and toast was my first step towards getting him kitchen literate and has already borne fruit.

We went for an impromptu picnic last weekend and he volunteered to make his and his sister’s sandwiches. Whilst I was out running errands, he sliced challah, spread the slices with peanut butter, cut the sandwiches into pieces and packed them in Tupperware boxes.

He was so proud of himself and the seemingly simple achievement gave me as much nachas as his first steps. I can see myself handing over pack lunch duties.

Since then I tried to persuade him to help me make pizza dough, but he refused. He did deign to roll out the dough, spread it with tomato sauce and top it with cheese.

The sooner he can prepare his own food, the sooner I’ll be released from kitchen duties.