About half an hour ago, as I was making breakfast, my three year old sauntered into the kitchen. He quickly noticed that I was making fried eggs and so came and positioned himself next to the tray of eggs. Z likes to help around the kitchen and so I give him various titles to make himself feel important and more importantly to keep the kitchen mess free. On somedays, he is the Master Stirrer, stirring chocolate syrup into his glass of milk perfectly. On others he is an Egg beater extraordinaire or a Jolly Jam spreader or even an Onion Peel Thrower, meaning he throws the onion peels into the bin. He takes his titles very seriously too.
Today when I conferred upon him the title of Super Egg Passer, he launched into his role headlong. He was diligently handing me the eggs but not before he had whispered something to it. I turned off all the noisy appliances in the kitchen so that I could listen to what he was whispering. Turns out, he was willing every egg he passed on to me to somehow miraculously survive. He kept saying, ” Its OK baby chicks. Don’t worry baby chicks!”
I just did not know how to react.