As a recovering Chef and loving father I have serious reservations about my four year old's aspirations to cook. On one hand, nothing could be more flattering then to have my son take an interest in what I did for 25 years and follow in my footsteps. As much as I have joked, I love cooking and thoroughly enjoyed my time in some of the best kitchens of the country. I made lots of great friends, learned a lot about different cultures and got to see the world one kitchen at a time. On the other hand, nothing can be scarier than to hand a small child, prone to being a small child, razor sharp implements. My dog has permanently crawled into a kitchen cupboard, completely unable to comprehend the madness unfolding around her. Sometimes I question my own sanity.

Beau has reached a dividing line between being a bebe and becoming a small responsible boy.  He is quickly learning the world no longer circles around him, oohing and ahhing at his every move.  He is learning to cope with the fact that he is a human, like the rest of us, and needs to take his place as one voice in the human choir. For the most part this has been a smooth transition.  Beau is a good boy and really wants to please us. At times our quiet household descends into complete and utter chaos punctuated with moments of inspired anarchy. I read on one parenting site that this is the by-product of a rapidly developing brain. The constant probing of the boundaries of sanity.  Ok, we've all had moments as parents where we wanted to shoot our offspring. Most of the time, albeit through copious quantities of wine or industrial strength pharmaceuticals, we manage to survive another dark night and wake to an incredibly beautiful new day.

Lately Beau has been going through a super helpful, wanting to cook with Dad phase that has me cautious. I've learned to never completely let my guard down. Any tender moment can rapidly degrade into something else. When I cooked professionally I was more like an uncle who visits infrequently than a father. As I spend more and more time with him he wants to spend more time with me.  The other day we were making cheese and caramel popcorn for our weekly Friday movie night and I needed some ingredients. He clutched me tightly with a doleful look begging to come to the store with me.  How could I refuse the pure love shining through the souls of his eyes?

Anyone with French blood cursing through their veins or at the very least has lived with one quickly learns the major emphasis we put on food and the table. Teaching Beau to cook is the way I can express love and educate him on the history of the world and different cultures. We turn sheets of pasta into teachable moments like learning patience, realizing it takes effort and determination to complete something and the pure feeling of joy that accomplishment gives.  Nothing makes me feel prouder than eating a perfectly beautiful cannelloni we both crafted.