Monthly Archives: September 2013

If you can’t stand the heat, don’t install a molten lava floor in your kitchen

I cook most of the dinners at our house. There is something about the sight of me cooking dinner that makes our one-year-old especially needy. We make faces and giggle and play at all times of the day, but the only hour at which he consistently needs to be held by me is the one in which I am trying to cook dinner.

Given the choice of being held by me or by his mother, it is probably 70/30 in favor of Mommy, except when I am cooking. When I am cooking, he sees no other arms but mine. Only these arms can keep him from a crying fit when there is something sizzling on the stove.

Parents learn to do much with one hand. Our days are a routine of picking things up one at a time, in the order necessary to complete what would be thoughtless tasks to freewheeling, two-handed, childless types. Still, there are some things that are nearly impossible to do with a child in one arm, like hoisting a roast out of the crock pot or forming dough into a pizza shape.

My son doesn’t care what I can’t do one-handed. Cooking is daddy-toddler together time. He lets me know this by wrapping his arms around my legs as I’m trying to walk to get the butter. If I want to move freely between the fridge and the stove, I’d better pick him up.

Butterworth's demise

“Pick me up or Mrs. Butterworth gets it!”

By picking him up I’ve jumped from the frying pan onto the electric coil, because putting him down again is bound to be an ordeal. When a toddler is okay with being put down, he lets his feet down to meet the floor. When I try to put my son down so I can strain the pasta, he lifts up the landing gear like the floor is hot lava.

Touching hot lava dismays children, even when it is cool and made of linoleum. I am reminded of this every time I attempt to set a child down in it. Having to sit in hot lava while a heartless parent cuts up chicken breast is the worst fate imaginable. It makes a child cry. A lot. Much more than necessary. Especially since no crying is necessary. But it might distract Daddy enough to make him cut his finger, and that would teach him some respect for bonding time.

Cooling lava

A panoramic view of our kitchen floor after it has cooled down a bit from dinner time. (Image: Robert Bonine)

It’s not only that holding a child while cooking is inconvenient. There are things involved with cooking that are hotter than metaphorical lava. This means the boy has to be upset with me from across the room as I pull a dish out of the oven. But when safety is not an issue, I have learned to do all sorts of food prep with one hand.

If you wonder what this looks like, just imagine the Heisman trophy statue. Only, imagine a one-year-old tucked under the left arm, instead of a football. Then imagine that the outstretched right arm is holding a whisk.

It may not qualify as a cherished childhood memory

My wife is diligent about giving our boys different experiences to fill their childhood.  She is especially skilled at sniffing out free events. Unfortunately, we are often a step behind on the details when we set about our adventures. We might arrive at the wrong time or pull up to an abandoned building with an address almost like the one where all the wonderful childhood memories are being handed out.

Our eldest son likes the old Batman TV show and our younger boy enjoys singing the theme song. When we learned that Adam West was due to make two appearances at our university, we immediately marked the date on our calendar.

We explained to our four-year-old that this was the actor who played Batman; he wouldn’t be in costume and he would be older than he looked on TV. Even so, the boy was excited to see him. The little boy didn’t care who it was. He’d sing his song for Burt Ward if he had to.

I had to work, but my wife got the boys to the student union in time for the afternoon autograph session. This great success was marred only by the fact that the event was happening elsewhere. When this troubling detail was discovered, it was too late to make it in time. We’d have to try for the later event.

We made sure that the evening appearance was indeed located at the student union before setting out. The big boy brought his Batman mask and cape from two Halloweens ago. In the car, the little boy spontaneously burst into his rendition of the Batman theme song.

We imagined the great photo we would get of our young Batman with the original Caped Crusader. We thought about how tickled Mr. West would be to hear a song so near and dear to him from the mouth of a babe. He might even tell the story in future interviews. Maybe he would recount it in a memoir.

At the union, there were rows of chairs set out before a stage. It looked like Mr. West wanted to give a talk before signing autographs. We found seats and immediately swung into keep the toddler contented mode.

From what I heard, before the toddler bolted from the room, Adam West sounds like a funny, humble man. I spent the last half playing out in the hall. At last, people started streaming out. It was odd that they didn’t stay for autographs.

We went back into the room to find my wife and the big boy among the few people left. Not among them was Adam West. Apparently, the earlier event had been the only autograph session. Details!

It wasn’t a total loss though. The little boy had a great time playing in the hall; my wife learned several fun facts about the career of Adam West; and the big boy got an awesome photograph of himself with a poster of the senior citizen who once was Batman. Not too shabby.

Pitcuter with a picture

He’ll always remember the day he posed for a picture with a lady holding a poster of a guy in prop sweater.