I Taught My Son To Make Grilled Cheese

The coolest thing happened today.

It all started with a little tantrum. But, not really a tantrum, more like very vocal disappointment. There was no more ham for a sandwich. The devastation. The RUIN! He was going to starve to death.

Maybe he wasn't that dramatic, but my drama filter has slight issues deciphering minor drama from major drama. It's all just drama. But the cute kid kind, that makes you sigh and go: I don't remember being this thick... to yourself, but you know damn well you were. And you know you were because those were the days of discovery - and learning how to do grown-up things was like - ONE more step to being independent. To being a grown-up (if we only knew what that really meant, huh? Our parents warned us not to wish for this).

So Uncle Mike and I were giving him suggestions. He hadn't eaten earlier, when breakfast was being offered and he was hungry now for lunch.

"You could make a grilled cheese if you want to," I say, ever so trusting of this barely 10-year-old. Why not? By the time I was his age, I was helping my mom who was working 90 hours a week by making sure my brother and sister ate dinner, went to bed on time, and woke up in time for school. I was making meals like spaghetti and macaroni-and-cheese because Momma had taught me how. She had trusted me because I was generally a more responsible child than most of my 'babysitters.'

I forget, that I was an abnormal child. I also forget sometimes that I had an abnormal childhood which required me to be an adult much sooner than I should have had to be. So naturally I was shocked when he said: "I don't know how to make a grilled cheese!"

The child I am speaking to now is very intellectual, so my brain associates him with an older child of more like 13, instead of 10 years of age. "I haven't got to cook by myself before, only microwave stuff." He says, which also shocks me because I had learned last year that he loved to help in the kitchen while cooking. I had just assumed someone cooked with him at home and he knew how to do these things, by how well he behaved in the kitchen while helping me cook.

"You don't know how to do it? Do you want to learn how to do it?" I asked curiously, just to gauge his reaction.

I've seen some faces light up - but he lit up brighter than a Christmas tree star.

So I took him in the kitchen and pulled out the stuff. While cooking with my overeager 6 (almost) and 4-year-olds drives me absolutely nuts with aggravation, teaching Dean was kind of fun.

"Mayonaise?" He said, wrinkling his nose. "I don't like mayo." I grinned as I continued to pull it out of the fridge.

"Not yet. But you're about to find out Mayo's superhero secret."

"What?!" He says laughing and I nod.

"Yep. Do you know what mayo is?" I asked and he shook his head. "It's whipped egg yolks and oil. Soybean oil, for this particular jar. It works just like vegetable oil in some cases for cooking, and it works like butter when you want to toast bread on the stovetop. It spreads better and toasts a little more evenly than butter does. I can even use a little mayo to saute onions and mushrooms in." His mouth falls open, but he still has doubt in his eyes.

"Watch me make your sisters. Then you can try it yourself. Just watch and see. It won't taste like mayo, it'll taste like butter." When I'm saying butter - I'm speaking about the margarine type. But his kid brain doesn't need to know the tedious details just yet.

So I show him how to work the stovetop nodes, explaining the nodes and giving the usual cautionary warning: "Do NOT burn yourself, please. Your mom might kill me." As he watches me like a hawk, asking questions, I'm impressed with his respect for my kitchen rules and how he's asking the correct questions:

“Uh, what if I put to much mayo?”

“No problem. Let me show you how to scrape off extra that you don’t need.”

“What should I do if it gets too hot and smokes?”

“Take the pan off the burner and turn it off for a few minutes to let it cool. Most of all, stay calm and don’t panic — just call for me. I’ll never be that far away when you are cooking. I always warm my pan on low-medium. You can always turn it up, but cooling it off to stop burning is much harder. Slow is better than racing. Cooking needs patience, which means you should take your time and have fun with it.”

He's listening intently. He’s listening intently, eyes glued on my hands as I show him how to check to see if the bread is toasted properly and flip the sandwich. He enjoys cooking.

He's so excited to make his own sandwich. When he was done eating, he was so proud of himself, and asked me: "Do you want a grilled cheese?" The hope in his voice was loud and clear.

Tonight for dinner - when I asked what everyone wanted for dinner he sprung up and said: "I WILL COOK! I CAN MAKE EVERYONE GRILLED CHEESES!"

Not a single one of us could say no to that.

And he did, he made everyone's grilled cheeses to order. I’ve eaten two grilled cheese sandwiches today. I’ll eat as many as I have to until he needs something new to show off.

"Do you want your bread well-done or medium rare?" We all laughed after figuring out he meant the toastiness of the bread. Lightly toasted or well toasted.

Just a moment ago, as I was typing this, he came up to me and his father and said: "What does everyone think about grilled cheeses for lunch tomorrow?"

Seeing him so proud of himself makes me happy. And it was a good moment. I know now that before he leaves, I'm going to teach him how to make something else. I hope that when he goes home, he convinces his mom to let him cook dinner for her and she can tell him how good of a job he did. Because for real, his grilled cheese sandwiches were the bomb. He didn't even burn a single one. They were perfectly toasted.

My children surprise me every day, and it's a wonderful feeling.

The moral of the story is this: Take the time to teach your kids to do things like cook. The memory of hearing how proud of himself he was, telling me that he loves cooking for the family, and the moments I got to spend bonding with him and teaching him could never be replaced by hustle and money. Knowing that I will never have to make a grilled cheese during the summer ever again? Even better. I'm just kidding... I know that he's going to want to learn something new in the next couple of days, so I better start planning for that. Scrambled eggs on the stove maybe?

It's a chance to get to know them and talk to them. Don't be afraid to let them grow up and learn. Take the time to spend with them and really get on their level. Time is fleeting and precious. And one day, you're going to wish you had more of those memories. Every day that goes by, it's another day of their innocence and childhood and wanderlust gone.

So cherish it, and don't forget to remember to nurture that every once in a while in our busy, busy lives.

Time is precious, thank you so much for taking some to read my article. I hope you enjoyed it and it proved useful in some way!

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