Cooking with My Daughters....

I was cooking with Amanda last summer and it inspired me to write a poem. A few days later I was cooking with Elizabeth and I let her read the poem and she said, "Mom, why don't you write a poem about cooking with me?", so I did. Here are the resulting poems and I loved how they both had such different feelings, just like my daughters. They are each so different.....and I love them each so much!

Cooking with Amanda

Cooking with my daughter
Now grown
Is very different than it once was.

Tiny hands eager
for the scooping
of each ingredient.

A step stool
to boost her up
to counter height.

With her wide wooden spoon circles,
stirring as the flour makes a
lava flow over the sides of the bowl.

I watch now as her practiced hands,
measure precisely.
And her stirring creates not even a
drip off the bowl.
Turning out the perfect loaf.

I hear the echo of her little voice,
exclaiming over her warm creation.


Cooking with Liz

Is this how you do it?
How much do I put in?
Is it ready yet?

We mix & stir and
form the perfect batter.

The oven takes it high,
almost over the sides of the pan.
Spreading the topping almost causes overflow.
The rising stops just in time.

Jiggle, jiggle is it ready?
Is it too jiggley Mom?
Is this the right amount of jiggle?

Questioning until she sees
How to do it,
As we work it out together.