Our kitchen is tiny. Barely any counter space, and little room to move around. Loading the dishwasher and getting ice for coctails are unfortunately mutually exclusive activities. It's what my Auntie Colleen would call at "two bun" kitchen.
Even so, both my boys love to help me make dinner in the kitchen. My first grader has enough experience to chop vegetables with a paring knife and fry his own egg for breakfast. My preschooler spins the salad, peels the garlic, grinds the spices, and recently made the coconut brown rice (almost) all by himself.
I'm sure there are many articles out there about the benefits kids get from helping in the kitchen. The boosts to self-esteem, the improved eating habits, the attachment to family. The fact that one day they may cook dinner for me. Whatever. What I really love is witnessing the discovery. Exploring the best way to juice a lime, tasting the coconut milk, sniffing the curry powder, wondering if an extra pinch of salt would help. Then, there's the satisfaction and pride when they sit down to eat. They love to be recognized and praised for their contribution to our evening meal and accept each compliment with a smile.
The togetherness is worth every sticky spot on the floor and extra step or stumble around a chair pushed against the counters. There's a lot of kisses and I love you's in the kitchen just before dinner. So, yes, you can help me make dinner. Anytime, sweetheart.