ian cooks

Anyone who knows me knows I hate to cook. So maybe it's Ian's survival instinct, or Charles' good influence, but in spite of me, the kid is turning into a chef. The last few days he's been microwaving chicken nuggets (hey, you've got to start somewhere), and cutting up celery for snacks. Ian swears slicing and dicing is easy. And fun.

Okay, I can buy "easy." It's the "fun" part I don't get. I find all that slicing and dicing so unrewarding. I hear that some people find it meditative. And that some get a warm, fuzzy feeling from nourishing their loved ones. I don't. I cook (occasionally), but I don't enjoy it. It just feels like a whole lot of work for something that's gone in a few minutes.

I do like baking, though. I like the smell of baking, the feel of baking, the taste of baked goods. I have baked with Ian since he was small, so maybe I have had a tiny influence on him. But the idea that cutting up celery is "fun"? He sure didn't get that from me.