Something I hear parents say a lot is, “I can’t wait until my children are old enough to help in the kitchen.” But I’m here to tell you, they probably already are! 

Before my son turned two, he was helping me prepare asparagus, tear up basil, pound chicken and more. OK, it really wasn’t much “help” at the time — but it did get him used to being in the kitchen with me. 

In Season 3, Episode 7 of the Kiddos in the Kitchen podcast, I asked Laura Fuentes, founder of MOMables and author of five cookbooks, about how she involves her three children in the kitchen. She had tons of great ideas, which I’ll outline below. But first, a disclaimer: 

As a parent or grandparent, you know your child best. You know their motor skills and other physical abilities, their temperament, their interests, their level of compliance with safety rules, etc. The ideas below are organized by age group. But every child is different, so listen to your own heart — and your child — when deciding how and when to introduce these tasks. 

Under 3

In general, Laura suggests focusing on exposing the littlest kids to different foods and letting them try new things. Read my take on grocery shopping with children.

Ages 3 to 5

• Wash and put away produce

• Prep lettuce by tearing or cutting with a plastic chef’s knife

• Stirring, mixing and folding

• Scooping muffin batter

• Greasing baking dishes

Ages 5 to 8

• Use a small paring knife to cut ingredients for pizza

• Use kitchen scissors to cut herbs

• Measure wet and dry ingredients

• Peel vegetables

• Roll meatballs

• Make sandwiches

• Grate cheese

• Set the table 

Ages 8 to 11

• Load and unload the dishwasher

• Skewer foods for grilling

• Make pasta salad using leftover noodles

• Make and flip pancakes

• Check internal temperature of meats

12 and Up

• Follow a recipe and bake something in the oven

• Make a simple casserole

There’s Still Time

It’s never too late to start involving kids in the kitchen. 

“If you're like, ‘Oh, my child isn't there. I failed at this whole kitchen skill thing or teaching my kids,’ I just want to let you know that my kids still don't know all the things by age, and they're still working on it,” Laura says. “Any day, like today, is a good day to just get started.”

And you might be surprised at just how helpful even young kids can be. Inviting kids into the kitchen is as much about teaching skills as it is helping them to build confidence in their ability to cook. Over time, they’ll gain independence in the kitchen, which is something they’ll value their whole lives.

I’ve given away the ending. But here’s the news: My son has completed his final oral food challenge (OFC) at his allergist’s office.

This comes after successful egg and baked milk challenges and one failed milk challenge. It also comes after introducing soy, peanuts and tree nuts at home after believing him to be allergic.

We began this more than six-year journey with a reaction of hives to some Greek yogurt and a few weeks later, to eggs. Skin testing and bloodwork when he was 10 months old showed he was allergic to soy, nuts, peanuts, dairy and eggs. A couple of years later, we were cleared for peanuts, soy and nuts, and the others took time. More skin tests, more blood tests. More “pokes,” we called them.

Then, one allergy remained: dairy.

My son had a GI reaction to milk two years ago, and — as you can probably understand, provided you haven’t been living under a rock — COVID-19 derailed our intentions to re-test in 2020. But this summer break, we were back at it.

Here We Go

After some starts and stops, his latest bloodwork showed he was ready to re-test. Miraculously, I was able to score an appointment before he went back to school. It did, however, mean scheduling with the office that’s the farthest from us. But my son said, “It’s OK, Mommy. I can do it.”

He was so excited for this test. He so badly wanted to try new things. To be able to have goldfish crackers, regular ice cream and cheese on his pizza.

I was nervous — not that he’d have a serious reaction, but that he’d have enough of one (like last time) that they’d stop the test. Or that we’d walk away knowing it wasn’t an allergy but that he was sensitive and should be careful. I feared ambiguity.

We brought in our whole milk and chocolate syrup (to make it more palatable). His first “dose” was given just after 1 p.m., and it was scarcely a swallow of milk.

Wait 20 minutes. A larger swallow.

Another 20 minutes. A couple of swallows.

“Are you feeling OK, buddy?”

“I’m fine. I feel great.”

“OK, I’m going to keep asking.”

“OK.”

We brought his Nintendo Switch and played Mario Kart until my old-lady eyes couldn’t handle it anymore.

Then, out of the blue: “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Darn it, I thought. We’re done.

I panicked. Texted my husband that the GI issues must be starting. But my son returned very quickly to our exam room.

“Everything OK?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, a little annoyed. “I had to pee."

“Oh. Cool.”

The test continued, with the amount of milk he drank increasing every 20 minutes. The final amount was a small cupful.

All Clear

“You feeling OK?” I asked for the hundredth time.

“I feel great,” he answered.

I inspected his face, neck, chest and belly all afternoon, looking for signs of a reaction. There were none. No itching or rashes. No hives. No GI distress. Nothing.

Our provider came in and shared that he was all clear. He could eat whatever dairy he wanted. Butter, cheese, yogurt, milk. Any of it.

I asked about what we should do if he had GI symptoms later. It’s not an allergy, she said. If we had concerns, we could call, but between the OFC and his bloodwork, they were confident:

He’s cleared for dairy.

Now What?

You’d think we’d rush to stop at the local ice cream shop on the way home. But instead, I opted for a dairy-free night. Dairy affects people in lots of ways and with this being his first of it since the last OFC, I wanted to see if we noticed anything.

In the two weeks since, we’ve let him lead the way … What is HE comfortable with? What does HE want to try? I took him shopping with me the next night and let him explore.

He’s made it clear that he never needs to drink a glass of milk again. And he thinks noodles in cheese is weird, so we can hold off on the mac and cheese.

He’s tried some things he didn’t like. But he’s liking cheese on pizza. He also appreciates cheddar in our breakfast hashes and casseroles — as well as on enchiladas and baked tacos.

As the meal planner and preparer, I like having these new options, but I didn’t need them. What I needed to know is that if eats something with cheese, he won’t die. I didn’t think that would happen before, but now, I feel better.

And I’m excited about what’s ahead … I can introduce him to lasagna and baked ziti and previously off-limits Mexican dishes. We can do cheese boards, and he can eat whatever he wants on them (and I don’t have to feel bad eating what I want on them). He can try cheesecake and creme brulee!! I can make everything at Thanksgiving the way I’d like to without modifications, and he’ll be OK. He doesn’t have to ask me ever again, “Does this have dairy?”

Yes, the food lover in me is excited, but the bigger part of this experience is that the mom in me can breathe a gigantic sigh of relief. So many foods were a danger for so long. And now, they’re just foods. We’re done with skin tests and oral food challenges and carrying an EpiPen made by a company trying to make us go broke. To our knowledge, this is the end of our allergy journey.

He’s safe.

Our past two summers haven’t looked the way I envisioned when my son started school. We’re traveling less (and less far), and my son is home more than I expected, thanks to the pandemic.

But summer breaks remain a good time for medical and dental appointments. Yesterday’s experience was not a pleasant one — but dinnertime saved me.

A Challenge

Yesterday, my son was scheduled for a dairy challenge at his allergist’s office. This is where he tries a food he’s been allergic to under the watchful eye of a provider.

Last March, his bloodwork indicated he was ready to try milk again. His dairy allergy was improving. (Yay!) But when our governor shut down nonessential businesses because of COVID, I elected to postpone my son’s dairy challenge. (Boo!) If I had known then what I know now, I would’ve kept the appointment. But instead, I kept postponing and postponing it, eventually canceling it — waiting until we felt safer.

A couple of months before school let out, I scheduled the appointment. On Sunday, I purchased milk. I prepared my son, who is so excited about the possibility of being able to try real ice cream or some cheese on his upcoming birthday.

Then, 90 minutes before his scheduled appointment, the allergist's office called to say they couldn’t do the challenge. It had been three months too long since his bloodwork.

I teared up; I tensed up. Why was I just now getting this information? The woman on the phone agreed it was not right. But it wasn’t her decision. She was simply the messenger. The poor, poor messenger sent to call this very frustrated, very tired mom.

Working through Disappointment

In my work and in my life, I try to roll with the punches — to be flexible and adaptable. But here’s the thing: A lot went into getting that appointment. These are three-hour-long appointments, and there aren’t an infinite number of them to snag in the first place. Never mind that our summer break is short. And regardless of the time of year, it can be hard to take whole afternoons off work.

I thought I might lose it on the phone. We’d been cautious about getting our hopes up around the challenge itself, but to have them dashed even before our appointment time was too much. I was disappointed in the office for their lack of communication. I was suspicious of the motives for making me go through another round of office visits and blood tests ($$$). I recognize they are following their protocol, but I couldn’t help but question whether they bothered to consider my son’s personal medical history at all.

Regardless of whose error this was, every person who spoke to me got an earful yesterday. (And I look forward to their email survey so I can put my opinions in writing.) The lack of communication — I just couldn’t get past it. The lack of respect for my time and my son’s feelings. They managed to email and call and text appointment confirmations, including a personal phone call the day before to make sure I was bringing the milk. But somehow they didn’t realize until the day of that we shouldn’t even be having this appointment.

There was little recourse, unfortunately. So, we went through the motions of the office visit and got our order for bloodwork. I came straight home to schedule the blood draw, and even without a rigid work schedule of my own or my son’s school schedule to contend with, the soonest appointment I could get in my area was two weeks out. Results take about a week and they’ll call us after that to schedule the dairy challenge again, provided the results indicate it’s OK. But knowing how difficult those appointments are to get, I fear we won’t be able to do it on my son’s summer break. This was crushing.

Saved by the Kitchen

Once we arrived back home, my son invited me to play video games for a while. And that felt like the best use of my time in that moment. I was emotionally drained and, to be honest, still very, very pissed.

Around 4:30, I told my son I needed to go make dinner. “Do you want to help?” I asked.

No, he said. He wanted to play. This was fine. I’m sure he needed a break from me anyway. And maybe some solitude in the kitchen was good for me too, I told myself.

I went downstairs and washed my hands at the kitchen sink. When I turned around, standing there at the base of the stairs was my son.

“Actually, Mommy, I would like to help with dinner.”

Yep, I teared up. How much can I cry in one day? I’m not sure I have a limit.

My happy kid happily skipped to the bathroom to wash his hands. He helped make the chicken marinade. He made the salad dressing and taste tested it to make sure it was to his liking. He chopped the vegetables for the salad. He took orders and served as both chef and server.

It was a fairly mundane meal. It’s one our whole family enjoys, but it is one we have every week. It’s not special. There was nothing new for him to try or new for him to learn.

But yet, there were lessons. I found calm and peace cooking with him. The allergist’s screw-up didn’t matter. The wait time for a blood draw didn’t either. And neither did anything else that was bugging me. No matter how many times I learn this lesson, I clearly need the reinforcement: Time in the kitchen usually isn’t about the food. It’s about discovering joy together.

When my son was a toddler, he’d frequently devour the medium-rare filet mignon on my plate. Today, I watch him eat salad and grilled chicken for dinner at least once a week. I see him gravitate toward dark chocolate.

Some of these choices are driven by his dairy allergy. He was never offered mac & cheese, so it’s not something he wants. He can’t have milk chocolate or processed candy, so he’s become accustomed to dark chocolate and homemade candies made with minimal ingredients.

Some of it is also driven by what he is exposed to. We cook a lot in our house. (Admittedly, we cook a lot of the same foods week after week, but still.) When we go to my parents’ house, my mom cooks. Even before the pandemic — which forced us to eat more meals at home — he was accustomed to a lot of homemade foods.

Sometimes I wonder if he will grow out of his dairy allergy and discover these foods that he’s been denied. I wonder: What will he crave? What will he discover that he loves? Will it be fancy cheeses or Kraft in a box? (I soooo hope I can share a cheese plate with him someday.)

I don’t know the answer, of course. But I think a lot about raising kids as “foodies” — and what that really means.

What Does Being a Foodie Mean?

So, what does it really mean to be a foodie? Some often connect this word with snobbery. Someone who prefers high-end or “fancy” foods. But to me, that’s not what it’s about.

And to be clear: I want my son to be a foodie … Not so that he can order a $60 steak or dine on lobster. But I want him to be able to be adventurous. I want him to enjoy food — and the process of cooking. When I make something as simple as General Tso’s chicken, as I did this week, I don’t want him to fear trying the sauce, as he did this week.

I also want him to appreciate quality ingredients and real foods over manufactured ones. I want him to appreciate fresh foods vs. processed. I think about my conversation with Allison Rinehart. I think about the ways that she has introduced her own children to new flavors. The way she has expanded their horizons. The way she has embraced being a foodie. And I’m inspired.

A Gift

When my son looks at a restaurant menu, I want him to skip over the chicken fingers and to be open to other options. I want him to learn about foods and cultures from around the world. I want my son to be able to go to a Mediterranean restaurant — or to the Mediterranean someday — and be able to enjoy something (or many somethings) on the menu.

He doesn’t need to love every sauce or dip or every cut of fish … But to me, being a foodie is about enjoying food, being eager to try something new, being excited to explore recipes and restaurants.

A foodie’s attitude is my wish for son — because it’s the gift of healthy, open-mindedness, flavor and adventure.

Modern motherhood requires us to be intentional with our time — and creative with how we approach our kids. Popsicle picnics started as a creative way to keep the house clean and get some fresh air — and have evolved into something far more.

My son and I started making popsicles when he was 3 or 4 years old. We use my smoothie recipe and put them in popsicle molds. That means more nutrition and less sugar than many other popsicles. Since popsicles are best enjoyed outdoors, I once suggested we eat them at a “popsicle picnic.” He loved the idea, and they stuck. 

Our picnics soon became cherished special moments. As we enjoyed our popsicles, we chatted (that’s my son’s favorite word for talk). He talked about his day, his thoughts, his feelings. We found shapes in the clouds, we practiced yoga, we snuggled.

Picnics and COVID

For a while, picnics featured only popsicles and were a weekend event. Then, 2020 and COVID happened. We were on spring break in March 2020 when everything started shutting down. 

It felt serious, of course, but we still figured we’d be back to baseball, vacations and kindergarten in a few weeks. We had no idea what was coming. It seemed to make sense that if everyone stayed home for a bit, we’d be just fine. School would resume in no time. Spring break had simply extended by a week. No big deal, we said — we’d have some fun family time at home.

Obviously, this is not what happened. We started picking up materials from school and logging in to Google Classroom. I spent my days at the kitchen island, bouncing from work projects to troubleshooting my son’s latest tech challenge to helping him practice reading and math. 

When school was done in the afternoon, we both needed to step away from the screens. We needed to decompress. We needed to go outdoors. And by God, we needed snacks. Throughout March, April and May, our picnics were a near-daily mainstay. We expanded beyond popsicles, and we started to include games too. We played chess almost every day. We played Guess Who? and Uno. I ordered Sorry to have a new game to play.

Remember What Matters

Over the summer, the picnics faded. School was out, it was 110 degrees outside, and my parents were about to move in temporarily. But when virtual school resumed for first grade, my son was eager to restart the picnics.

Even now, with school back to in-person and life slowly returning to some semblance of normalcy, we still do picnics regularly … There’s always a snack and some iced tea or water. Sometimes we play games; other days, we read. One night recently, we had ice cream and laid under the stars.

For an episode of the Kiddos in the Kitchen podcast, and, well, for posterity, I guess, I asked my son what he would remember most from our year of COVID. His answer made me realize just how important all those popsicles were. 

Because he didn’t talk about virtual school or missing two baseball seasons or being stuck inside or not seeing his friends for months on end. He answered sweetly: “Picnics with you.”

I love the first week of a new year — there’s so much hope, so much promise. It’s a time to reflect and plan.

For as much as 2020 was terrible (virtual school, canceled vacations, no gym access), there were also upsides. We ate together more as a family, and I got a lot of time with my little buddy. And you may be expecting me to say we cooked together more or that I personally cooked more. That’s somewhat true.

We certainly made more cookies and muffins than ever before, and I did, in fact, cook a lot. But it became more of a necessity — more of a chore — than usual.

I didn’t make space for trying new foods — or my project to track our family recipes. They were 2020 goals that fell by the wayside. Because of coronavirus, because of the stresses of virtual school, because of my anxiety over the unrest in our country … The way I coped was to turn to the familiar. It was too much work to get out a cookbook. It was too much to try something new. And it wasn’t just cooking. I turned to the familiar in my entertainment, too — rewatching The Office and Avengers movies, rather than consuming anything new. 

And while everyone loves a little comfort food every now and again, too much can make you sick. And for me, that lack of experimentation — that lack of newness — has, in some ways, impacted my emotional health.

My 2021 Food Goals

I’m a goal-setter — I have high expectations for myself. I may not always reach them, but damn, I’m going to try. Some things stick — 8,000+ daily steps, flossing, eliminating soda. Others (most, if I’m honest) are a work in progress.

So, yes, have food goals for 2021. Here’s what’s in my (most hopeful) plan for the year:

1 – Cook one thing with my son once a week. Even if it’s just a batch of brownies, let’s be in the kitchen. (We have plans to bake something this Friday night.)

2 – Try two new recipes each month. And begin to purge my bookcase of the cookbooks I don’t actually use. (Halfway done for January!)

3 – Try one new restaurant (or a new dish from a current fave) each month. (January: Check!)

4 – Build our family recipe book as much as possible. (Haven’t started.)

5 – Keep the kitchen island tidy so that I want to cook more. (Oh, man, not even close.)

Other Ideas for 2021 Food Goals

If you’re not a person who enjoys being in the kitchen, you may be rolling your eyes. I get it. Some may even sound absolutely ridiculous to you. That’s cool. Consider something a little easier: 

• Try one new recipe or technique per month. If you normally grill chicken breasts, try pan-frying chicken breast tenders. If you bake fish, try an Instant Pot version. Everything we do to expand our horizons even a tiny bit gives us more confidence and experience in the kitchen. When things feel easier and we feel more confident, cooking feels like less of a chore.

• Try to cook with your kiddo just once a month — at a time when you’re able to relax and they’re able to engage.

• Find a Facebook group of people who love food where they share their creations that inspire you.

• Find a new cookbook that helps make cooking more appealing to you.

But most of all, remember that food is about nourishing our bodies; cooking is about doing so in a healthy way — and cooking with our kids? Well, that is about having fun and creating memories.

Monday was one of those days. A pandemic Monday that started off terribly. I’ll accept the blame for part of that terribleness — I’d stayed up too late Sunday night. So, perhaps I was a bit more emotional and easier to upset on Monday.

But much of the awfulness clearly was my son’s fault. First, I had to ask him to get dressed about 17 times over the course of 30 minutes. Then, when it was time for breakfast, I placed his usual waffles in front of him, and he said he wanted a cookie. I reminded him we don’t eat cookies for breakfast. (Even though, truth be told, I have been known to sneak one myself in the morning. Bwahahaha.) But then, he behaved in a way that is extremely rare for him. There was pouting and crying. He asked again, I said no again, he disappeared from the table, he stomped and hid in his room until we were almost late.

When we started toward school, he darted out ahead of me — and then, even after I caught up, he didn’t want to speak to me until we were almost at school. It was without a doubt the worst walk to school we’ve ever had.

I kept my cool. I gave him a hug. But my walk home was a miniature pity party. What just happened? Why did he dig in about the cookie? Should I have given in? (No.) How can I focus on work now? Should I crawl back into bed?

That morning with my son affected my ability to work, to eat, to engage with others for the whole day. I felt … out of sorts.

A Shift in Mood

But when I picked him up from school, he was in a good mood. At home, I offered him a cookie, and we were able to somewhat joke about his piss-poor attitude from the morning.

Even with the smiles and hugs, I still felt pretty blah, though, so I asked him if he wanted to snuggle and read. We snuggled and played a math enrichment game on the iPad and a little Plants vs. Zombies, which I don’t think I’ll ever understand.

Then, a really cool thing happened. It was time to start dinner, and I asked if he wanted to help. He instantly said yes. It was the first time other than our recent baking that he’s been interested.

The Best Part of Cooking

And boy, was he interested. He was interested in learning how to make “Mommy Chicken No. 1” and how I make my chipotle mustard vinaigrette salad dressing. I showed him how to turn on the grill. He watered the garden. He sliced tomatoes and cucumbers for the salad. He tasted raw garlic. He sampled the dressing to make sure it tasted right.

And then he proclaimed: “The best part about cooking is eating.”

The eating’s pretty great, I’ll admit, but I’d argue the best part of cooking is: him.

Thanksgiving hasn’t always been my thing. I was never a big fan of turkey. Or mashed potatoes. Or gravy.

I showed up for the pumpkin pie and the stuffing.

But after becoming a mom, creating traditions around Thanksgiving and holiday food became more important. I wanted to prepare the meal — all by me, all from scratch (except the damn pie crust, which I will forever and always hate). I wanted family around. I wanted people gathered by the fire outside. I wanted to collect all of the Thanksgiving food magazines from the newsstand. And I wanted to experiment in advance of the holiday with ways to prepare allergy-friendly foods for my son. Plus, I wanted to document those recipes for him. (That actually turned into something I could share with you every year.)

2020 Is Relentless

This year, though, everything feels upside down. I’ve picked up just one recipe magazine off the newsstand. I feel thoroughly uninspired to prepare a menu. I feel an inordinate amount of stress about gathering with family. I’m not clamoring to host. 

Indeed, this year will be different. But it remains important to us to be with family. So, in our house, we will keep the gathering small. And it’s utterly heartbreaking. We have been staying home since March. We’ve given up a lot this year. Yet, it feels like we’re nowhere closer to the end of this pandemic. This year has been hard for us all, and this holiday season will test us.

We all have different levels of comfort and risk — and feel differing degrees of responsibility for the community around us. Perhaps you’re explaining to children why they can’t see grandma and grandpa. Perhaps you’re not sure it’s worth repairing a whole turkey for a small group. Perhaps you’ve painstakingly grown your “pod.”

Food = Love

For people like me, preparing a large family meal is a way we convey love. Food’s a love language. So I’ve decided that even for our smaller group, I will still prepare a semi-elaborate Thanksgiving spread. I’m still going to spend a few solid days in the kitchen. Because that’s where the JOY is (for me). That’s where MY HEART is.

The turkey will be a few pounds lighter. But there will still be dressing, there will still be salad, there will still be potatoes (both “Conner” and mashed). There will still be fresh cranberry sauce. And pie, you ask? Oh, there will be homemade pies. My son suggested we have 16 varieties. We’ve negotiated down to three.

And the day before Thanksgiving, when there is no school, I will bring my son into the kitchen and invite him to help me just as we did last year. I will hope that he has some muscle memory … And some real memories of our time last year.

I hope and pray that next year we will be able to return to our big Thanksgiving hosting tradition. I hope that 2020 and COVID will be but a blip in my son’s consciousness — and that what he remembers about his childhood Thanksgivings will be that there was always joy and love and delicious food and time spent in the kitchen.

Because, while the table may be smaller, and the turkey will be, too, the love that surrounds us this season will be as big as ever.

“It’s only four days until Halloween!”

My son’s been counting down since … I dunno … August?

He LOVES Halloween. He loves decorating. He loves “spooky stuff.” He loves dressing up and trick-or-treating (even when he can’t eat half the candy due to a dairy allergy). He loves the experience of Halloween.

But this year is different. We didn’t plan our usual annual trip to the pumpkin patch. (Even though it’s outdoors, it feels unnecessarily risky.) We intend to place candy out in a bowl for trick-or-treaters and attempt trick-or-treating ourselves, but we have no idea what to expect this weekend. But there are a few things that connect us to this season — and yes, some are all about food (er, cookies).

Ghost Hunts

In years past, my son and I have done ghost hunts — strollering when he was little, walking and scootering today. We look at everyone’s spooky outdoor decor and count the ghosts we see.

The Ultimate Ghost Hunt

The night before Halloween, we’ll do our final hunt of the year. I’ll drive, which will let him see homes he hasn’t been able to check out on our walks. We’ll end the hunt with a drive-through run at Starbucks for almond milk hot chocolates.

Halloween Candies

I found these super-cute candy molds and made allergy-friendly chocolates.

Halloween Cartoons

We’ve watched all the Halloween movies and TV shows — dating back to the 1940s — that Disney Plus has to offer.

Halloween Cookies + Other Goodies

We’ll be doing cutout sugar cookies this week, and my mom and I are planning on making some chocolate cakelets in this adorable pan. Last year, I made Jell-O skulls in this pan, and there’s been a request for that experience to repeat. One thing’s for sure: We are going to be sugared out by Nov. 1.

Dressing Up + Games

No matter what happens with trick-or-treating this weekend, my son will still get to be Kylo Ren. He’s already worn the costume enough that I think I got my money’s worth. But he’ll get to dress up on Saturday, and even if he comes home empty-handed, he can ring our doorbell and get some gummy bears. Then, we’ll set up a game of Halloween-themed cornhole in the backyard and have a memorable Halloween in spite of Covid.

Let’s start with the harsh reality: This pandemic is the worst. Reading stories of people suffering with and dying from COVID-19 is horrible. Thinking about the ramifications of going back to school this fall is terrible. Hearing stories from front-line healthcare is devastating.

Not seeing friends, not going to tee-ball practice, wearing masks in stores … It’s all awful.

I’m not unaffected — there’s plenty I miss, and there have been meltdowns for sure — but I also know I haven’t had it as hard as others. For example, I’m an introvert. My work was already from home. I don’t mind cooking. I don’t get my nails done ever. I don’t color my hair. So far, we’re still working. I have only one child.

Still, despite all the awful no-good terrible-ness … there have been a few positives to come out of this mess.

Family Closeness

Once the schools were closed and my husband was sent home to work, our little family started having lunch and dinner together every day. We’d always been pretty good about dinner, though there were exceptions. But family brunches/lunches were obviously reserved for weekends and vacations. In the early weeks of the lockdown, my son observed: “One of the good things about the coronavirus is you get to spend more time with your family.”

God bless young children.

New Food Exploration

The repetition of eating at home, compounded with my own desire to try new recipes, has meant my son’s had to try new foods. He’s turned his nose up at a lot of things. But I don’t make separate meals for him. So, what’s on the table is what he’s offered.

During these past four months at home, he’s learned that he likes tomatoes with balsamic vinegar, breaded halibut, cucumbers (sometimes), salad (!), buffalo chicken wings, carnitas, jalapeños, chorizo and eggs (sort of, when they’re mixed with chorizo).

Just for a sense of balance and reality, though, he still does not like: asparagus, broccoli, cauliflower, bell peppers, carrots, celery, plain eggs, avocado … OK, you get it.

Eating Healthier

We used to eat out a few nights a week plus one weekend brunch. My husband ate out every weekday for lunch, and I’d eat out at least a few weekdays too. My son ate peanut butter sandwiches (or nothing, because he spent his lunch breaks gabbing with friends).

Our family lunches now include fish with a side salad, semi-homemade pizza, eggs with sausage or chorizo, chicken with salad, and honestly, lots of dinner leftovers.

But in a lot of ways, we’re eating healthier — less sodium than eating out, more whole foods, and more nutrients than my son’s PB sandwiches.

Consuming Less, Wasting Less

When the pandemic hit and we were advised to go out as little as possible, I accepted a new challenge: purchasing groceries for seven to 10 days at a time. This was a new experience for me, as I was accustomed to shopping every two to three days for what we needed. Now, I need to be better at planning — and/or getting creative with using up everything we have before I venture out again.

I’ve also been a lot more focused on not wasting food, and that means everyone’s getting more comfortable with leftovers. We’re also making do more often, rather than running to the store for single items. I consider it a badge of honor when I see that this week’s grocery total is less than last week’s — or when I’ve stretched groceries 10 days.

My regular Target runs are down too. What exactly was it that I needed so badly? Some items were surely related to school projects or kiddo sports, but others were clearly unnecessary in life. And we’re just fine without them.

A Simpler Life Ahead

The pandemic has added complexity and stress to our lives in a lot of ways. But I yearn for the regular normal chaos. I crave the fun … the tee-ball games and dance class and chess club (for my son) and yoga and girls brunches (for me) and vacations (for our family).

I know I’ll be normal-stressed again, but I hope I remember some of the good that came out of stupid horrible no-good 2020. The benefit of family meals, the healthfulness of home cooking, the need for less stuff, the desire to consume and waste less — these are things that I hope stay with our family and make us stronger and happier in the long run.

This is a story of a parenting win. As parents, we need these.

I have plenty of days where I feel like I’ve failed: I spent too much time on work. My son spent too much time on the iPad. I failed to properly reward or discipline. I let him eat too much junk or get too little sleep.

But I find balance in the days when my son is super well behaved, when he asks to be excused from the table, when he happily plays alone for hours, when he snuggles up to me for an afternoon of talking or reading.

This month, though, a major victory came in the form of salad.

Who is this kid?

At lunch one day, my son had taken some chicken and then noticed that I was putting mine on a bed of lettuce. “I want to do that,” he said.

I did a double-take.

I gave him a few leaves of lettuce, piled with chicken and topped with my homemade red wine vinaigrette.

He ate it — and even said it was good.

Who was this child? Obviously, this was a fluke, right?

Then, a couple of days later for lunch, we had some baked breaded halibut, and my husband and I had a Caesar salad on the side. My son loves the fish, usually eating more than my husband or me. But catching me by surprise, he asked for the salad. I explained the dressing had dairy so he couldn’t have it. He was actually upset. So I promised the next time I made this meal I would pull out some romaine and croutons from the bag for him.

“Can I have the mommy dressing?” he asked.

And so the next week, he had a little side salad with his fish at lunch.

Proving it’s not a fluke, he’s had salad (well, lettuce anyway) several more times with my homemade dressings.

Modeling just might work

The funny thing is that for some time, my son has said that my favorite food is salad. Because I eat it so much. (The truth my real love is a good mac and cheese, but I eat that very rarely and never in his presence.)

My husband has some doubts, but I’d like to think that by modeling salad eating so many meals a week, we’ve finally made an impact.

Regardless of the reason, though, my 6-year-old eats salad. So, we’re gonna put that in the “W” column!

While a lot of restaurants are open, we’re still staying home as much as possible. We still do takeout a couple of times on the weekends to support our local favorites, but right now, we’re eating a lot of home cooking. I’m cooking (or re-heating) meals twice a day. And with work and a 6-year-old at home, it’s admittedly not easy. In fact, I thought I’d do a lot more cooking with my son during these stay-at-home months, but I often feel like the most important thing is to just get the meal done.

I’m sharing a few of our current and past faves in case you need to add a few new meal options to your own rotation.

• Roast Chicken – This staple was in our rotation anyway, but when my local grocery store started limiting packaged chicken purchases, I discovered that I could still buy a whole chicken on top of that limit. My son loves this chicken, and my husband loves the chicken fat-flavored potatoes and carrots that cook in the pan with the chicken. I follow this method from Bon Appetit. And I use Herbs de Provence for flavor.

• Carnitas from Gimme Some Oven – I don’t even bother with crisping them (me = lazy), and they’re still delicious. My son loves them, and I love that when I make a 3-pound roast, we get about 3 meals out of it!

• Instant Pot BBQ Pulled Pork from Gimme Some Oven – I made this for the first time yesterday for lunch, and hubby and I loved it, so it will be making a return for sure.

• Marinated Grilled Chicken – We call it “Mommy Chicken,” and it’s a top request from both hubby and the boy. It’s better when you can marinate it overnight, but sometimes I only have 10 minutes to give it, and everyone still loves it.

• Homemade Pizzas – These have been fun for my son to help with. Plus, everyone gets their own toppings. I buy pre-made sauce (Rao’s pizza sauce is my fave) and ready-to-go flatbread. (Someday, we’ll make our own crust, but seriously, right now, speed is the name of the game, people.)

• Chrissy Teigen’s Buttery Chicken Adobo – I made this so much that I think my son is bored with it. But it’s soooo good. (We sub in dairy-free butter.)

• Green Chile Chicken – Super easy, and my kiddo loves it. All I do is put chicken breasts in a glass baking dish and dump a jar of salsa verde on them and bake for 25 minutes at 400 degrees. We serve over rice with a salad on the side. If not for my son’s dairy allergy, I’d probably throw some cheddar cheese on there too!

And for Dessert

I recently made these Peanut Butter Molten Cakes, and OMG, soooo good.

You’re homeschooling your kids. The birds are chirping. The sun is out. Why NOT take this divine opportunity to teach your beautiful children how to cook? I mean, what a great opportunity to teach creativity and science and math plus a vital life skill!

Um, not necessarily.

You might think I’d be all over this. That I’d be the one telling you this is the perfect time to cook with your kids. After all, everyone’s cooking a lot more right now, and kids are home from school, so why not maximize this time together?

Why Not Use This Time to Cook with Kids

Here’s why: Kids are home from the school building, but they’re still in school. And you’re spending your time helping them complete their schoolwork. And in between completing your own work or trying to find a new job because you need the hours, you’re trying to get breakfast, lunch and dinner on the table.  (Side tip: Try to get everyone on a two-meal-a-day schedule.)

Right now, cooking might be a therapy for you — something that your children would totally disrupt. Or maybe speed is the name of the game — which, again, your children would totally disrupt. Maybe you used up all of your energy and patience on explaining multiplication (which you had to re-learn yourself the night before), and you have nothing left to give to teach your mini-humans how to cook. 

Easy Ways to Bring Kids into the Kitchen

Whatever your reasons, they’re valid. I’ve personally involved my son very little in the kitchen in these recent weeks. He needs the break from me, and I need to hustle. Still, I don’t want to lose the bond we’ve formed in the kitchen, and I want to keep him connected (if not participating) in meals. So, here’s what we’re doing:

• Grocery list input. I grocery shop alone these days, but the night before, I ask my family what we (they) need. Even if it’s snacks (and it’s always snacks) that he asks for, I try really hard to get that item. It makes him happy — that he got the snack and that he was heard.

• Meal planning. I’m still not the best meal planner, and a lot of what we’re doing these days is basing meals on what I was able to purchase at the store. (One week, there was a lot of fish and random cuts of beef, because that’s just what there was.) But I’m still asking my little dude what he would like to have this week or giving him options on the day — something that is simple and lets me connect with him.

• Take-out selection. It’s not cooking, I know, but it’s food. We’ve been doing takeout every Friday from the same local eatery. That was our son’s pick, and while I’d prefer a bit more variety, it’s fine. (I’ve ordered something different every Friday for myself.) We’ll usually do takeout from another local spot on Saturday night, and that’s more of a family discussion, but our son is involved, which is important to me.

• Occasional baking. When I’m up for it, I’ll ask him if he wants to bake with me. He’s never said no. Recently, we’ve done banana bread and blueberry muffins — and a no-bake sweet and salty riff on Rice Krispies treats. 

• Clean-up. We’re getting better about asking him to clear his own dishes now, too. There isn’t the same rush to wrap up dinner, and he’s almost 6, so there’s no reason he isn’t helping more.

So, here’s the bottom line: If you have the time and can add cooking to your homeschool agenda, that would be awesome, but I know it’s not possible for all of us right now.

In our house, we’ll be out of school in a week, and we’ll see what our summer looks like. Maybe I’ll be able to cook with my son more. Or maybe I’ll be overwhelmed with finding non-screen things for him to do and working and trying to keep everyone fed, and it won’t happen. Either way, I know we’ll get back in the kitchen together someday.

For now, I’m taking solace in knowing I’m doing what I can to keep my family healthy and my kiddo happy. And at this moment, that’s harder than usual, so from the lady who really truly believes it’s vital to bring our kiddos in the kitchen more: Give yourself a break.

“Mommy, can I have a snack?”

My newly showered 4-year-old was standing in my office doorway in his pajamas.

“A snack? You just had dinner!” I said.

Literally, it had been less than 30 minutes since we’d gotten up from the dinner table. And he’d eaten well — a couple legs of chicken, some rice, maybe a few bites of kale if I recall. How could he be hungry?

“Are you hungry? Or do you just want a snack?” I asked.

“I just want a snack.”

Something wasn’t right. And it wasn’t his fault. As parents, we’d gotten lazy about evening snacks. Almost nightly he was requesting (and getting) a little bowl of chocolate bunnies or crackers or peanut butter-filled pretzels. I was concerned about the habit …. this almost Pavlovian experience where he thinks that upon showering, he needs a snack — even if he’s not hungry.

I went ahead and got him the snack that night, and then, I started thinking … How can we rein this in? How can we teach a 4-year-old that no, he doesn’t need a snack every night?

Introducing snack coupons

What I settled on was a snack system that worked in concert with our reward system. First, we had “Conner bucks” — little dollars I’d made with his face on them. This system is a work in progress and changes as he grows. But basically, he is rewarded for chores and good behavior.

Then, I created snack coupons and established a rule system. I explained to him:

• He gets three snack coupons every Monday.

• He is welcome to save them, but once they’re gone, they’re gone.

• He cannot use a snack coupon if he has not eaten dinner. Real food first.

• He doesn’t have to use a snack coupon at Grandma’s house.

• He doesn’t have to use a snack coupon if a dessert is part of a planned meal/experience — a family or friend’s birthday or we happen to order dessert out or we’re at Grandma’s house.

• If he’s actually hungry and wants to eat real food — for example, fruit — he doesn’t have to use a snack coupon.

• He may choose to trade in his snack coupons for Conner bucks (1-to-1 value) to buy a new toy sooner.

What happened in the first week

I introduced this program to my son on a Sunday night and gave him his first week’s set of coupons. I told my husband that I expected our son to use up his three snack coupons by Wednesday, and Thursday was going to be a very hard night of parenting.

But what happened surprised us both.

He saved them.

He realized he wasn’t hungry and didn’t need snacks. He asked for strawberries one night.

I think it was Friday before he used his first snack coupon.

In the second week, he continued to exercise self-control. The most important thing to me was that we had broken this cycle of snacking. We’d created an environment and a structure where he had choices, and he was learning to understand his own cravings — and make choices about when to give into them.

What else happened

Any time we humans have a set of rules that we’re expected to work within, there’s always an opportunity to figure out how to manipulate the system or get clever about how to apply the rules. My son, then 4, was no exception.

He’d ask for a snack and use his coupon — but then save half the bowl of pretzels for the next night. Clever, I thought; there was no rule about that. Often, he’d even forget about them the next night (because again, the habit had been broken).

This system has had many benefits in our household, including:

• Curbing our son’s snack habit

• Empowering him to make decisions about his food and health and to recognize hunger vs. cravings

• Encouraging him to decide what he values (and many times, it’s been saving for a toy, rather than crackers)

• Teaching him how to delay gratification and save his “money”

These days, he asks for snacks very few nights of the week and has countless snack coupons banked.

Mission accomplished.

I have countless cookbooks and magazines as well as binders of cooking magazine tearsheets and website printouts from the past 20 years. And I am grateful for the test kitchen chefs at Bon Appétit and America’s Test Kitchen and all the rest. But the recipes I treasure the most are the handwritten ones that have been passed down in the family.

My grandmother once told me that her grandmother made the best bread. It wasn’t a written recipe, though. She just knew how to make it. She knew when it felt right and looked right. Making that bread was second nature to her. But my grandmother never learned how to make it. And because that recipe hadn’t been written down, it’s been lost forever.

It’s easy to see as an adult what a tragedy this is. My grandmother wishes she knew how to make that bread. And I wish I knew how too. But it’s also understandable why a little kid would rather run outside and play with her cousins than learn how to knead bread.

Generations of recipes

Last weekend, my mom, my son and I baked cookies. Every Christmas season, I make peanut butter blossom cookies. (It’s not Christmas without them, because my mom always made them when I was growing up.)

I think you can find this recipe on the bag of Hershey kisses. But I will never use that.

I will always go to my binder and find the recipe that came from my mom. Because I know she’s tested it and possibly made adjustments over the years. On my favorite pumpkin cookie recipe, I benefit from her notes where she has crossed out the spices and instead written “pumpkin pie spice” and given a new measurement. I will always use that recipe that lets me use pumpkin pie spice instead of pulling out multiple jars from the cabinet.

At Thanksgiving when I was looking for a pumpkin cake recipe, I had a few in different books. But I looked for the one in my binder … the handwritten one … the photocopy of the recipe card that says “From the Kitchen of Mary Conner.” I don’t know where my grandmother got the recipe. But I know it’s tried-and-true when her name is on it. And that’s the only pumpkin cake recipe I ever need to make.

My 2020 project: building our family recipe collection

When I cook, I’m happy to improvise, adding ingredients, making substitutions, adjusting measurements (and also not measuring if I can avoid having to wash another measuring cup). For some of our favorite family meals, I’ve made these changes so many times that I haven’t bothered to write them down. I just know my steps.

But I wonder what my son will remember. Will he want to make Mommy Chicken No. 1, Conner Potatoes and Mommy Popsicles with his kids? Nothing we make is especially difficult, but those flavors will remind him of a time in his life and a place. A feeling … one he might want to have again.

But if I haven’t written it down, will he be able to re-create it from memory? Should I expect him to?

So, for 2020, I’m working on our family cookbook. Something that hopefully can be passed down to my son and his kids. I want to document our favorite family meals, where they originated, how they’ve been modified. It will become a family food history of sorts. What are the dishes he loved when he was 5? What will they be when he is 7? How will those things change when allergies are outgrown? What recipes did we invent ourselves?

Legacy

In this week’s bonus episode of the Kiddos in the Kitchen podcast, Melanie Potock speaks from the heart about a family recipe and a cast iron skillet — and the memories associated with making candy with her grandmother as a little girl and continuing that tradition with her own daughters, who are now in their 30s.

If you are feeling sentimental this time of year (or are, ya know, human), you may shed a tear listening to Melanie’s story. It is beautiful and sweet and reminds us of the things that matter most.

When we cook in our families, it’s more than nourishing the body. There are memories that get locked away. A smell or a taste can bring us back to the memory of a person or a place or a feeling.

And it’s OK that those memories sometimes get locked away. But I don’t want our family to lose them forever. So, I’ll be doing a better job of making sure we have the key.

Cooking can be a chore. It can be a necessity. It can be a love. Whatever outlook we take on time in the kitchen, our kids pick up on it. That much I’ve been confident in for some time. But I recognized something else — something a little deeper — recently.

My son will be off school the day before Thanksgiving. So, I gave him the choice of attending his aftercare program to play with friends or helping me in the kitchen all day. He said he “definitely” wants to help me make Thanksgiving dinner.

So, we discussed what we might make that day. There are some musts for me — the cranberry sauce, any desserts, salad dressing, and cleaning and chopping veggies, for example. My son is very interested in making a pie (or two or three). I said we could probably do that, but I’ll buy the pie crust. (That’s one shortcut I’m A-OK with!)

“Why?” he asked. After all, he’s already made a pie crust. I explained that pie crust is tricky and we will have a lot to do that day.

“But MOMMY,” he said emphatically, “I will be there to help you.”

Contributing Is Key

Part of what makes kids want to be in the kitchen is they want to be like you. They want to do what the grownups do. But I think part of it is also knowing they are actually contributing. For example, my son is all too happy to help me clean the backyard furniture, and he’ll gladly take the mop from me to help clean the kitchen.

The thing is my son has no idea that cooking is actually harder and takes longer with him there. (But we are getting very close to a time when he will be truly helpful. YAY!) He believes he is contributing — and that makes him feel good … He’s proud to be a part of making a meal. And that makes him want to keep doing it.

It makes sense. Who wants to do a job that is just for appearances or busywork?

3 Ways to Encourage Kiddos in the Kitchen

To encourage this pride in him, there are a few things I do:

1. I assign him tasks. There are certain responsibilities that my son has when we are cooking. He has supervision, of course, but I am not usually standing over him. I am nearby working on a separate (if related) task.

2. I say thank you. When we are done, I gush over his work — I show him I appreciate his help.

3. I encourage ownership. He’s encouraged to tell Daddy what we’re having for dinner and how he personally contributed to the meal.

These are not hard things to do, of course, but still, we don’t always do them. Forming positive memories in the kitchen is so important, and part of what keeps them coming back is knowing they are helping.

So, sure, on the day before Thanksgiving, meal prep will take longer, but my son will have memories — feelings — that will be ingrained for a lifetime. And so will I.

Catch Me on the EarthyB Podcast!

I shared some of this (and more) on the EarthyB Podcast with Rebecca Kimber. Her blog covers sustainability and circular economy stories, and I’m learning a lot reading them. She’s starting to write more about nutrition and food, and I’m all for more of those conversations.

My son loves Halloween. I mean, LOVES it. To be honest, I’m not really sure how that love started. He didn’t trick-or-treat until his fourth Halloween, so it wasn’t about the candy … at first. He just decided he likes spooky things. The candy was a bonus.

Personally, I don’t love Halloween. But I do love fall, and I love my son. So these days, I’m all in for Halloween. The thing with Halloween, though, is that — as with Valentine’s Day and Easter — for kids, the candy takes center stage.

And while my son is really looking forward to trick-or-treating, what’s interesting to me is that he doesn’t actually eat much of the candy. It’s more about the experience for him. Because of his dairy allergy, we have to take a way a lot of his candy. Then, I remove some more because of the choking hazard and a few others because they appear to be more chemical than anything else.

Last year, he trick-or-treated at his preschool during the day and around the neighborhood in the evening. That meant that even after I removed a large percentage of this candy, he still had more than he should ever eat. Most of it, he never touched.

The candy is quickly forgotten. The dressing up and going door-to-door are what he celebrates. Plus, I have also made it a point to expand our Halloween experience beyond the candy and trick-or-treating. I just think it’s important that holiday memories be about more than collecting candy from our neighbors.

Here are a few ways that we have been celebrating Halloween this season.

1. Decorating

My son loves to decorate. At our house, we decorate for the Fourth of July. And Easter and Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day, too. There is seldom a time when we don’t have some decor out. but the fall holidays are especially big for us. At the end of September, we took a Friday evening and put out pumpkins and ghosts galore. It was the highlight of his week.

We’ve also spent some time at our local paint-on-pottery place and made decorations. These I’ll treasure forever because they show a progression in my son’s age and will always remind me of the weekend evenings we spent painting and chatting.

2. Crafts

My best friend told me about this adorable haunted house kit from Trader Joe’s. So I’ll be heading there asap. Meanwhile, my mom did some pumpkin crafts with my son this weekend. These are fun activities that anyone can do.

3. Cookies

Last year, we made Halloween cutout sugar cookies for the first time. It happened to be the day we were being photographed for Taste of Home magazine. And he remembered because a few weeks ago, he asked when we were going to make our Halloween cookies — as if this is a thing we do every year. We recently made those sugar cookies (using Halloween sprinkles, of course!). We will also do these delicious (modified for allergies) pumpkin cookies.

4. Ghost hunts

When my son was little, I’d put him in the stroller and do walks at night. He loved getting out of the house. He still does. Of course, now he can ride his bike or walk himself. Our evening ghost hunts are an opportunity to get a little exercise, look at our neighbors’ decorations, count the ghosts, chat and enjoy the cool evening air.

5. The pumpkin patch

We are very fortunate that there are multiple farms near us, where we can not only pick up a pumpkin and a pie but take part in various outdoor activities. We have a family favorite, and I love that my son remembers it and looks forward to going.

6. Chili night

I love the idea of Halloween being a chili dinner night every year. What a great meal to have in the slow cooker all day. That way we can eat quickly and head out for trick-or-treating. (Here’s one of my favorite chili recipes.)

7. Skull-shaped mini cakes

I saw these adorable Nordic Ware Skull Cakelet Pans in a Sur La Table catalog and fell in love. (When my local store was sold out, I turned to Amazon, of course.) I showed my son the accompanying video, and he got SO excited. He has even made me promise that we won’t tell Daddy we ordered it. He likes thinking that Daddy gets spooked easily, so he thinks it’s HILARIOUS to surprise him with spooky cakelets. We also plan to make skull-shaped ice cubes to go into a simple punch for Halloween night.

For me, fall is about cooler weather and going outside and doing fall things (like going to the pumpkin patch) and eating fall things (like pumpkin cookies and chili and braised spare ribs). It’s never been about All Hallows Eve. But my son’s love of Halloween has converted me.

Still, I believe it’s important that we build traditions and make memories that go beyond candy. That means that when he outgrows trick-or-treating, there will be plenty of other activities we can carry forward. And even in years when he may feel excluded because of his food allergies, there’s lots to look forward to and wonderful memories to make. And it means we’re emphasizing the importance of family and togetherness.

Because while I’m super excited to give Daddy a scare with our skull cakelets and take my son trick-or-treating, there’s so much more to this season that I want him to savor and appreciate.

I recently invited my husband’s family over for dinner. It was his birthday week, and I wanted to do something for him. We don’t always celebrate the adults’ birthdays in the family. But I was feeling like I wanted to celebrate my husband — and create an opportunity for the family to get together.

At the time I extended the invitation, I genuinely thought I had a lot of time. I thought my work was in a good place, the house was in a good place, and I could plan, prep and make a big meal. But life didn’t go that way. And so, I found myself scrambling a bit.

A couple of days before our dinner, I asked my son what dessert we should make daddy for his birthday. “A cake,” my son said.

“What type of cake?” I asked.

He paused for a moment.

“Cheesecake.”

My son is observant. While my husband is not much of a sweets person, his dessert preference probably would be cheesecake. But I wasn’t sure I had time to pull that off.

Then, I started describing the food menu to my son. Daddy had asked for steaks. And we’d probably do a salad and some roasted vegetables, perhaps a baked potato bar.

My son leaned forward and said, “Mommy, that sounds like a lot. I think I’m going to need to help you.”

My heart melted. That understanding of how much work goes into preparing a meal typically comes from the other women in my life — my mom, grandma, aunt, best friend. And here was my son, all of 5 years old, recognizing that cooking is a lot of work, and yet, not viewing it as a chore. He saw it as something he wanted to help with.

I often feel like food is my love language … It’s something I can do for others that shows I care. And when my son asks if we’re going to make our Halloween cookies this year and if I can make his special Valentine’s Day chocolates again, it means something to me.

Maybe my son’s love language will be food as well.

Experiences like this conversation with him remind me why we spend time together in the kitchen. And why we show love around food. It’s so he can have a relationship not just with food but with cooking that is positive and joyful. And it’s moments like these that make me think maybe — just maybe —what I’m doing is working.

It was the last weekend in August, and it was still well over 100 degrees in Phoenix. Before noon, it was 100 degrees. The high temps can make it really hard to think about fall. After all, we were still swimming. And yet, a few weekends ago, my son and I tried to will fall upon us. Labor Day was around the corner, and we were ready for the sweetness of autumn.

Choosing Our Treats to Bake

Flipping through an America’s Test Kitchen magazine, I discovered a recipe for strawberry pie. It was beautiful and summery, and it required no oven time — perfect for the hot weekend. It seemed like a lovely treat for the pre-Labor Day weekend. It was also a clear acknowledgment that we were still very much in summer.

My son loves strawberries, so I showed him the picture of the pie and tried to get him excited about making it. He shrugged. “How about we make an apple pie instead?” he asked.

Um, maybe because it’s 110 degrees out? That seemed like reason enough, but another — also very good — reason was that I had never in my life made an apple pie. Pie crust makes me angry. And fruit pies have really never been my thing.

Still, I heard the request. He’s thinking about Halloween and fall. So, I said, “How about we make pumpkin bars?”

“Let’s do both.”

Darn it.

Well, at the very least, I figured, if the apple pie was a massive fail, we’d still have pumpkin bars. So, I strategically started with the pumpkin bars on Saturday evening so I’d have one success under my belt.

Then, my son and I went to the store and purchased different kinds of apples for a pie. I also tried one more time to get him on board with the no-bake strawberry pie. No dice.

Baking Day

I put the flour and sugar in a bowl. Next, we added the butter. And I let him smush it until he could smush no more. The sensory experience of the changing flour texture was one that made him giggle with glee. We put the disc of our pie dough in the fridge, and it was time to move on to the filling

This was the part my son loved the most. I pulled out my apple peeler/corer/slicer that I’d bought at a Pampered Chef party over a decade ago. I needed a bit of a refresher, but I slid the apple on and turned the crank. The peel came off in one long glorious thread, and the apple fell off the rod, thinly sliced. My son took his knife and cut them in half, then placed them in a bowl with some lemon juice. He couldn’t wait to turn the crank on the remaining three pounds of apples.

Next, we cooked the apples in butter and added sugar. At this point, we’d been in the kitchen for just over two hours. He was fading and was interested in playing baseball. So I let him off the hook for the final steps. It was just as well … I was reminded why I don’t make pies: Pie crust is my nemesis.

But still, I got some version of a crust into the pan, the cooled apples on top, and then an ugly (but perfectly delicious) crust on top.

The Experience

After it baked, we were pretty excited to indulge in our creation. And it struck me: My first experience baking apple pie was also my son’s first experience baking apple pie.

What I hope he takes away from this experience is that the two-plus hours we spent in the kitchen that day weren’t just about pie. It was welcoming fall and being together. (And there happened to be an apple pie at the end of it.) I also hope he saw his mom try something new in the kitchen. I hope he saw that even though I was frustrated, I persisted.

And I hope he saw that even though that a photo of our pie will never be in a magazine, it was still delicious — and it was made from the heart. And that’s what matters.