My son is obsessed with kitchen appliances. He is both terrified and in love with our KitchenAid standing mixer (I understand the love; I’ve loved this thing for years). He plays almost daily now with our Cuisinart (minus the blade, of course), and he regularly opens the cabinet to admire the waffle iron, begs us to pick him up to pat the coffee grinder, and regularly messes with the toaster settings. This child loves the kitchen and cooking, and it’s a joy to watch.
A day or two ago, we received a seasonal mini catalog from what we call “the red store” (think bullseye). BG likes this store, mostly because they have KitchenAid mixers and so many other appliances just sitting there waiting to be ogled. I admit that I have taken him to this store purely upon his request and primarily to look at small appliances.
I didn’t think much of the catalog. J and I each glanced at it amongst some other catalogs over the last few days. But today, when I was looking through it, mocking the plastic-looking party-goers fake-toasting under a banner that read “get together” (seriously), BG was interested in what I was reading. I turned the page, and on that page was a parade of small kitchen appliances ranging from donut makers to pie makers. But leading the parade was the holy grail: the red KitchenAid standing mixer. BG giggled and squealed and took the catalog out of my hands to admire the shiny, candy apple red mixer.
A few times today, my wife attempted to throw the useless catalog into the recycling, and each time, BG dug it out, finally replacing it with a new book of ours (one can only imagine what his logic was there). Tonight, he insisted on eating his dinner with the catalog open to the mixer page. My wife and I took turns telling stories about the mixer. When it was bathtime, BG stalled. He refastened his booster seat after I unbuckled him. He cried, and then he began shoveling more peas in his mouth because if he was eating vegetables, we couldn’t possibly tear him away from his mixer book. He told us stories about the mixer, and when it really was time for him to go have a bath, he cried and cried–until I told him that we could tell stories about the Cuisinart in the bathtub. And that is precisely what we did.