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So a week ago, on Sunday, two of my sisters came to visit. The one being my oldest, and my son's favorite aunt, the other my baby sister, a rare visitor because she lives out of state.
Not long ago I posted (and bored y'all) about my son's newly developed interest in cooking. I managed to cajole, beg, even implore (but was prepared to do a motherly "insist" if necessary) him into preparing dinner. I was hoping for his baked chicken, which is wonderful, but he conditioned his participation on being allowed to try a new baked fish recipe. Fair enough. I offered my usual limited help.
Now, almost getting to the point of this longwinded story, Wayne (my son) is "in his element" when in the kitchen. It's hard to believe this is the same kid that just a little over a year ago created some "decent" meals, but also caused a cleanup that would have made most hazmat units flinch.
When I am allowed to help him, which has become increasingly rare, it is quite evident who is running the show. He is never remotely rude, inappropriate or out of line, ever mindful of his position in the parent/child world, but direct, to the point and absolutely in charge of "his kitchen". He directs me in what assistance he needs and how he wants it done. I actually feel pretty proud of his confidence.
He put together an ambitious menu of a salad, some stuffed mushrooms (his personal favorite to prepare . . . too many different recipes to list) steamed asparagus and the baked fish.
Hang in there, dear readers, this all does come to a point . . . eventually.
My sisters and I were enjoying a good visit as Wayne labored at preparing our much anticipated culinary delight. The smells wafting from the kitchen were beyond pleasant.
I excused myself to see if my not-so-little (turns 13 in less than 2 weeks) chef needed my help. In his usual "in charge", kitchen manner, I was given my few "marching orders" which I dutifully completed.
Returning to my sisters, I found them both in hysterics and laughing to the point of tears. They found the exchange between the "master chef" and his helper most amusing. I noted that I also find it amusing, in a sense, (but not nearly at their level of entertainment) and note that Wayne is a bit of a "Kitchen Kommandant" but, while he runs a tight ship, he's always respectful about it.
But, it seems that was not the real source of their merriment and hilarity. They explained that he is no doubt my son because he sounds just like me. Exactly like me when I am the leader/authority/director, etc. of a project or task. The more I protested, the more they laughed.
Yesterday was our usual Saturday, chore day, and as usual I was listing the tasks to be completed before the boy was free to enjoy his day of fun and frolic. In a near out of body moment, my words echoed in my head . . . for better or worse, yep, in "kitchen kommandant" mode he sounds exactly like me. I guess that makes me the Mommandant. LOL.