A Master Chef has to get his start somewhere

Okay, I am having flashbacks to my own childhood. I went through crazy streaks of only eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or only hamburgers...you catch my drift. Or at least my mom will anyway. (hey Mom, remember the time I woke you up in the middle of the night to tell you I wanted a peanut butter sandwich in my lunch bag the next day? Good times, right?) Interestingly enough, Ian is in the peanut butter and jelly sandwich phase. Not only does he want to eat them and wear them, but he also insists on making them.

I learned my lesson with the cake that had one too many taste tests and finger swipes. So, I monitor the proceedings closely to avoid double dipping into the jars after licking the knife. (It's a butter knife, people) We are learning how to use the knife for spreading the peanut butter, which is a tough motor skill for him right now. The ratio of jelly that ends up on the bread vs. that which is directly eaten is quite disproportionate. That does not make him less determined.

He slaps the bread together, we cut it into triangles and he sits happily at the table with his sandwich....which he promptly begins disassembling, because not unlike an Oreo, the middle is the best part. At least he's not dunking it in his glass of milk.....yet.

And so what if he eats peanut butter and jelly everyday for the next however long? Just the fact that he can participate in making his meal makes him a happier boy. And there is nothing better than an happy little boy.