may I serve you?

Pook made lunch for me. And not just anything for his first real venture as a chef. He decided he wanted a grilled cheese sandwich. I was busy with laundry, trying to prepare for our drive to Pittsburgh (Sister MD) and to Niagara Falls. I had dropped Bug off at a playdate (great timing!) and wanted to get as much done while he was out of the house as possible. I was into the idea of finishing up odds and ends in the fridge, and cheese was one of those items, but not into the idea of making it. I suggested he do it himself.
"I don't know how!"
"Sure you do, you just don't know you know how."
I continued to fold laundry as I gave him slow, step by step instructions. Get the cheese. Get the butter, the bread, the pan....

He sliced cheese alone, laughing at himself for the sloppiness of it, but assured that it would all melt in the end. He assembled two sandwiches in a preheated pan and kept an eye on them as they cooked. I joined him only to flip them over (he probably should have done that too). Then he plated them and brought them both to the table. Visibly proud. They were properly golden brown and oozed with melted cheddar. I'm sure I was cooking some by his age, so I will encourage this again.