What I learned From Teaching My Son to Cook

This summer our 9yo son has learned to cook. Mostly he likes to cook the stuff he likes to eat. Noodle kugel, macaroni and cheese, strawberry soup. But, whatever’s on the menu, he’ll chop and dice and measure and stir, whatever is necessary. Doesn’t even gripe about the cleaning up afterwards. All the boys love to “help” in the kitchen, sometimes they even actually help in the kitchen. Since the large majority of our family time is spent in that room, we have a lot of chores there. It’s for sure the center of our home. The kitchen table is huge and maybe the only surface in the house that is consistently free of clutter. We’ve taken the custom of my husband’s family – important conversations happen at the kitchen table. Report cards, transgressions, announcements and soul-searching all find their home there. It’s no surprise to us that our eldest son, who loves to be in charge and in the center of everything, gravitates towards the work that happens most often in the kitchen. Cooking appeals to his interest in math and chemistry. He gets to make decisions, effect outcomes, experiment and get credit for it all. Since we thank the cook after every meal, he looks forward to that as well. All this is valuable. And, since I’m determined to never have a daughter- or son-in-law complain at me that their husband can’t cook, I’m gratified that he is competent so soon. What has he taught me by learning to cook? He has taught me to transfer control. Maybe he knows, on some subconscious level, that this will be my real challenge in his tween and teen years. As the balance scale of decision-making shifts from me to him, he is teaching me to let go. To start the process of trusting his competence, or his ability to recover from mistakes. To stand back and let him spill, over-salt, even cut himself and then stop the bleeding on his own. After all, what cook’s hands are cut-free?