The Kitchen

If the size of the rooms in our house were proportionate to the amount of time we spend in each one, the kitchen would take up at least the entire first floor. The kids would be fine with this.

Mary ran downstairs the other day, having rediscovered her chef hat and apron, and excitedly asked what she could cook for me. I started rattling off a list of foods I know she has in her play kitchen, and her face started to fall. "But I don't know how to make any of that!" Then I realized she was offering to help with real cooking, not play cooking, so we headed into the kitchen to make tortillas for dinner.

She was lucky Gussie was napping, because he firmly believes the kitchen and everything in it belongs to him.

He likes pretend cooking on pretend stoves.



He likes pretend cooking on real stoves (don't worry, nothing is on).

 And he likes real cooking best of all. I know he looks apprehensive. This was the first time he got to use the brush to put the egg wash on the empanadas, and he was taking his job very seriously.

Of course, if our whole house was a kitchen, we would still need some sunny windows.

And Gussie would appreciate a set of lockers for hiding in and surprising people.