Since I’m still loving the new kitchen, cooking hasn’t yet gotten old. We’ve been baking and making and cooking up a storm. The girls are so excited about the kitchen being all shiny and new that they’re anxious to help me cook. I’d say I’m sure it will wear off soon, but both of them really seem to like being in the kitchen helping me. I will say that Sugar’s dash to load the dishwasher will probably end before I choose a paint color, but I digress.
Last week I dusted off one of our favorite chicken recipes (chicken breaded in Ritz crackers and baked… no way could that go wrong!) and set about cooking dinner. Sugar was parked at the breakfast bar doing homework and Spice tripped over herself to help me.
Spice joyfully filled the baggie with crackers and crushed them with all her might. I let her whip the eggs while I rinsed the chicken (always rinse your meat. If those asswipes in the meat department drop that on the floor, they put dirty meat in the package without washing. Don’t ask how I know. I just do). I’m sure I was making a face as I trimmed the nasty shit off the meat before dipping in egg and breading.
I should have realized I was in trouble when the whipping frenzy on the eggs slowed down.
Spice: Hey Mama?
Me: What up?
Spice: Does that feel like a wiener?
Me: Does what feel like a what??
Spice: That chicken. Does it feel like a wiener, you know like a wiener on a boy?
Any good mother would have been indignant at this point, yes? “HOW WOULD I KNOW WHAT A WIENER FEELS LIKE?? I’M A GIRL!” Behind me, I could hear Sugar jump down from the stool and scramble to find a utensil that she could use to hack of her innocent ears. And I answered, “Well, they’re made of skin, so I guess they probably feel like skin.”
And Spice rubbed her arm and said, “So it probably feels like this?” and I said, “I guess so.”
In my house, we talk about stuff as it comes up. I try to give them the answers they’re looking for without getting hideously embarrassed, but HOLY HELL does it suck sometimes. However, I don’t believe the questions they are asking at their ages are inappropriate. They go to school, they play on playgrounds. I’m SURE other kids tell them crazy stuff, just as when I was a kid we all compared what we knew and let our more knowledgeable friends fill in the blanks.
I shared the raw-chicken-wiener story with EN and he wanted to chop off his own innocent ears.
I shared the story with friends with kids and they found it to be hysterical, not at all out of the ordinary.
I shared the story with an unmarried coworker that has no kids and she thinks there’s something wrong with my kids. “Kids just don’t talk that way. They shouldn’t be that curious already.”
So yesterday when I was playing Draw Something with Spice supervising and had to draw Aquaman for the above-mentioned coworker, Spice suggested adding a wiener to be sure my coworker would know the stick figure was a boy.
I let her add the wiener. She was happy. It looked like a line squiggle in the general wiener vicinity.
Is there really anything wrong with curious kids?