I started making up a batch of Apple Crisp the other day (who says skinnier is better?) when Ms. R came wandering into the kitchen.
"Mom!" She exclaimed "I can help you with that!"
"Alright honey, what part do you want to do?"
"The same part I helped grandma Char with" She answered.
"Which part was that?" I asked.
She proceeded to take the bowl I was putting the apple peels in and ... start eating the peels.
I could do nothing but laugh.
"THAT was the 'help' you gave gramma Char?"
Then I asked her if she wanted to do a little bit more, like help me cut up the apples.
She eyed up the BIG knife I was using and asked hesitantly if it'd be safe (first and foremost, she's a safety girl.)
I put my hands over hers and showed her the right technique and told her when she got to the "butt" *snicker snicker on her behalf* to stop so she didn't get too close to her fingers.
Yeah. The slices were three times the thickness I generally cut them.
Yeah. It took me an extra 20 minutes to cook the crisp.
Yeah. She took A LOT of pride in that dish ;)