Tanner loves to cook. He's already discovered, of course, that he can carry around his stool anywhere and immediately be able to see and do things he's never seen or done before. He has two stools, one big and one small. Actually, niether stool is really his, but you try to tell him that. The small one is handy for around the house stuff. Turning on and off the TV, for example. Or, even better, the Wii or Xbox while the kids are playing a game. Or for finding books on those hard to reach shelves. It's light, and easy to carry. But for jobs where height is really important, he uses his kitchen stool. It puts him at precisely the right height for "helping" with every day cooking chores. He's becoming an accomplished stirrer, a competent scooper, an excellent licker, and the best ever mess maker.
He loves it thought. LOVES it. Anytime I even go into the kitchen, or open a cupboard, he comes running--running--from wherever he is in the house, finds his stool (and if I've locked it up in the pantry to prevent this very thing from happening, he goes to the table and gets a chair. Stinker.), pushes it up to the counter and looks at me like, "Okay, Mom! What are we cookin' today? And where's my spoon?"
I can't resist.
It's lucky I have a broom.
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