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In a household with three sons and a daughter, cooking was a must. She never did mind cooking, always hovering by her parent’s side while they prepared, cooked, and served a meal.
Now it was her turn to do the teaching, this time her eldest son by her side, mixing what needed to be mixed, flipping what needed to be flipped, and making sure everything was on the serving plate before bringing it to the table. Then it was her second eldest helping, then youngest son, and soon her daughter. She taught them how to measure out ingredients, how to correctly use a knife, and even out to put out different types of fires. She taught them old family recipes, new recipes from the internet, and even encouraged them to come up with their own ideas for a meal.
Before she knew it, her kids would be in the kitchen cooking for her, repaying her for all the time she spent slaving over a hot stove for them, all the hot meals they got to eat before bed or before school, and even the packed lunches that they were sent to school with. It didn’t take much to cook; all they had to do was follow the recipe, and maybe add a few things here and there, but in the end they had a nice hot meal for the five of them all to enjoy at the table, and maybe some leftovers for tomorrow morning.
The only real problem with cooking is figuring out who was going to do the dishes after everyone ate.