Raising Emeril

[Guest guest]

Raising a chef is not easy, especially when the pretend skills were only

recently acquired through ABA.

Especially when the chef-wanna-be is autistic, and is oddly learning to help

mommy.

Especially when I can't make her understand that her " cook in the kitchen "

and " tea party " activities are not the same as playing with 150 degree

water.

But raising a chef, I am. Her name is Sydney.

You see.... I cook, and serve the meal to whoever is eating. Should I leave

a frypan out - Syd opens the fridge, gets eggs out, throws a couple of eggs

<the WHOLE egg, mind you> and pours in some oil from the blue bottle and

throws in the whole blue bottle. Hungry? She brings me the oil bottle.....

" cook for me, woman " is the message. I don't need to explain to you all how

difficult it is to get oil off of hardwood or even carpet, do I?

You see..... there was a time I could leave hot dogs in a pot, wait for it

boil while I stepped outside to have a smoke. Only now, I come back in to

find salt, pepper, garlic powder AND beef bouillons in the boiling water,

with the hot dogs. Keep in mind, I mean the ENTIRE SALT SHAKER.... the

ENTIRE PLASTIC PEPPER jar...... the GARLIC POWDER can, in whole.... and

every single cube of beef bouillon. Hot dog is salty enough on its own,

without all this help. Into the trash it goes.

See a wooden spoon? Well, we stir with wooden spoons. Therefore, we must

stir whatever is on the stove, hot or cold, even if the entire salt can is

in the boiling pot, you see. Stir.... stir. Even if it means that marinara

sauce covers the entire kitchen, in spots. Not to mention herself.... not

to mention food I throw out.... stir, stir the trash can.....

Like I said, I am raising a female Emeril. Emeril, on drugs LOL.

Grace

Mom to Sydney and Madison (3-28-98)

and wife to Shaun (1-11-97)

Bay Area, Northern California