I taught Klara a gender stereotype. We were reading a book about Nelly Gnu where Daddy makes dinner.
“The story is not saying the truth!” Klara exclaimed indignantly. “Daddies don’t cook. Mommies do!”
My explanation that some daddies – like uncle Etki, for instance – do cook had zero effect. She believes in observable reality, which is that Daddy never cooks.
I don’t mind because there is no greater power than the power of cooking. It’s the power over the life and well-being of the whole family. If I feed you deep-fried, greasy and sugary stuff for several decades, you’ll die 20 years before your time. But if I do fresh, seasonal and green all the time, I’m giving you life. N, by the way, got off statins and brought his cholesterol to a super healthy range only thanks to my cooking. When he was single and cooked for himself (out of deep freezers and cans), he was 40 lbs heavier and had no energy to work out. Plus, I have a kid who literally tears broccoli out of my mouth because she likes it so much.
Also, cooking is a great way to promote psychological hygiene. I wouldn’t give it up for anything.