Maybe this sounds familiar: My toddler is obsessed with being a “helper” at dinnertime, but inevitably she manages to be particularly unhelpful. More often than not, my family’s well-intentioned “let’s cook together!” sessions devolve into tantrum because someone wouldn’t let someone put raw chicken in her mouth. (I’m not naming names.) The entire cooking process takes longer, is more stressful, and is much, much messier. Afterward, my kitchen looks like a demolition zone.
And yet. I want my daughter to find joy in the kitchen, because after all—I love cooking. Don’t I want her to share in my passion?
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