My husband asked my oldest son to mix the biscuits and place them on our baking stone while he ran to the store for a missing ingredient. He’s ten, and it sounded pretty easy, so I let him do it, but, as it turned out, it wasn’t easy for him.
Minutes later – “Mom!? I don’t think I’m doing this right,” he called to me from the kitchen.
I was a room away, typing away something brilliant, I’m sure. Ahem. “What do you mean?”
“It’s crumbly,” he said in this, monotone, you-should-come-take-a-look-because-something-is-wonky, kind-of way.
I got up to investigate. (Wow, was “crumbly” ever an understatement.)
“I didn’t do a good job, did I?” He pouted, shuffling his feet.
My heart exploded with pride and sadness all at once. I feel it’s important they get “behind the wheel” so-to-speak, to learn how to do this stuff as early as possible, to foster a love of healthy eating from scratch, not to mention fending for themselves to help them become more independent and capable. Unfortunately, we were both mistaken – he was without knowing what the consistency was supposed to look like, and I was for thinking it was easy enough that he could handle this on his own.
“Oh, baby! (Because, he could be 40 and still be my baby) You did just fine, you didn’t know there wasn’t enough milk. It’s alright, baby! Look, we’ll add more milk. It’ll be okay. See?”
“But I made a mess.” He grumbled.
“But that’s okay, see? I can sweep it into my hands, put it back in, and mix it up. That’s alright, see?”
And I showed him how gummy it’s supposed to look, which was met with “Oh!” and “I see!” and a bunch of other exclamations as he learned. Because that’s what it’s about, making mistakes, learning from those mistakes, and trying again.
And our mistake? Was to leave him to do it alone without knowing he didn’t really know how to mix biscuits. We know better, just as he does, now. And soon? We’ll try again.
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