I have the best helpers. They especially like making pancakes and waffles but will pull up a chair anytime they hear me puttering in the kitchen. I can open the refrigerator and know that within 3 seconds Everly will be at my feet pulling jars of pickles and mustard bottles out of the door. It's my version of a dog whistle. And I have to load the dishwasher in spurts (and only while I'm alone in the kitchen) unless I want the contents simultaneously loaded AND unloaded.
I won't say that I loathed being in the kitchen before - but I certainly didn't enjoy it like I do now. There definitely is more meaning in my work there or maybe just a greater reason for cooking and keeping things in order. Two pretty sweet reasons.
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