Future prospects

After making apple sauce in preschool, our son declared to his teachers, who were impressed by how concentrated he had been on cutting his apples and how he hadn’t given up until he was done, that when he grew up he wanted to be a hockey player or a chef.

Personally, I’d vote for the chef since we don’t have the soul of hockey parents. We don’t have a car to stop at Tim Horton’s at 6 in the morning on our way to the hockey rink. Our son is taking skating lessons because he is obsessed with hockey, but we are trying to find a balance between encouraging him in what he likes and trying to steer him away from a sport we don’t really want him to get involved in. Maybe we can convince him to go for speed skating?

In the meantime (he can’t stand up alone on the ice yet, so we’re safe for now), we are encouraging the chef in him. The other day, he spent two whole hours in his chair helping his dad make pizza. Supper was late, but he had cut all the veggies, grated the cheese, mixed the ingredients for the dough, etc. And this morning, he helped his dad make apple sauce “with cimannon” to go on our apple pancake.

Did I mention that Zak’s parents shipped us 13 boxes of apples from Zak’s grandmother’s orchard in Kelowna? Yes, 13. Big boxes, too. Macs, Golden Delicious, Red Delicious, Spartan… Sop we have been eating lots of apples, and we’ll have to keep at it for a while. Which means there should be more apples to cut for our little chef.

And if the chef idea doesn’t work, he could always become a policeman. Still according to his teachers, he is quite the enforcer of rules at preschool, pointing out kids who haven’t washed their hands before snack, etc. Not surprising. It’s the same child who will tell me, with his mouth full, “Maman, don’t talk with your mouth full” when I’m silly enough to answer his question before I finished chewing. If he could only see the speck in his eye…

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