August 11, 2008

My Week With The Two-Year-Old Nephew. What Will I Cook? How Will I Survive? Tune In To See!

He's Zach. He's two. He's my Godson.

I am staying in an undisclosed suburban location with him for a week, while his parents and older sister cavort around the Virigin Islands. Which end of the stick am I holding, here. :-)

Zach's improvisational pacifier design. Germs be damned.

I haven't spent more than an hour alone with a two-year-old in 16 years (since Molly was two). And the suburbs? Don't even talk to me about it. So here's my plan: Two-year-olds have to eat, right? And I have to blog. So, I'm going to cook for him. And I'm going to post same here. What will he eat? What will he not eat?

Thought:: Wasup with people always thinking there are certain things little kids will and will not eat, anyway? I am FULL of stories about kids suddenly eating things I've cooked that caused their parents to just fall over sideways in awe. Personally, I think that kids eat what they grow up eating, and are curious little monkey scientists just waiting to put new things into their mouths to see what they're made of. It was thus with my own two, who are now grown up and proud possessors of quite fearless, diverse pallets. I mean, really, what did cave people do? Run out for Gerber's and toaster pizza when the kids didn't like the roasted boar and root vegetables? Somehow, I doubt it.

Not that I'm going to torture Zach by making totally unfamiliar foods! That would be cruel. He'll probably be missing Mommy and Daddy, anyway. And food is a big source of comfort and familiarity. I'm going to play it by ear and see what arises. Make him his favorites, and then mix it up a little to see what he does without mom's and dad's expectations.

It's a mystery, right? Will he go for my variations on familiar dishes? Will he opt for only the packaged mac & cheez? Will he try the escargot or the beer braised brats? Alright. Kidding. I know better. The real point is, this week is going to be an example of love and care and nurture, and I'm going to catalog it here.

AND -- will I survive the week?

What could be more family-recipe-oriented than me cooking for little Zach Attach? He's a wild one. If I didn't love him (and my brother and his wife), I would even consider doing this (even though they are paying me pretty well). And, well, maybe the swimming pool and the Wolf cooktop help a little.

So tune in. I may not have time to write a million words, but I will post pictures and results.

And in the mean time, will you please pray/light a candle/cast a friendly spell/dedicate your yoga practice to me? Out there, in the suburban wilds, alone with a toddler, I may need it.

Remember the Sex And The City episode where Samantha sat for Miranda's baby? And then, remember when all the women went to visit their friend, who used to be a wild city girl but then got married and moved to Connecticut or wherever? And they show up out there for her baby shower, all of them dressed in black and looking all pale but then there were all the the suburban moms in their pastel outfits. I'm just saying.

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