Callie watched Benton from the doorway of the kitchen. He opened the crock-pot, and pulled out a piece of simmering ham with his fingers. He fumbled it when Callie cleared her throat behind him. “Benton, this is the last time I’m going to tell you to get your fingers out of the food and your body out of my kitchen.”
Callie looked behind her at the snack foods spread out in messy array on the dining room table.
Benton clarified his meaning. “I’m hungry for real food.”
Callie jerked a thumb across her shoulder. “Out. Paul and Randy need your help. They were trying to explain football rules to Trent. I’m sure you can do a much better job than they can, you’re closer to his mental age.”
“He’s a baby…”
Callie smirked at her husband. “My point…”
Benton mumbled under his breath.
“What was that?”
“I said, that I was going to be glad when you decided I’d suffered enough for the vacation debacle.”
Callie narrowed her eyes at his reminder. “You’re a long way from absolution on that one, my love. You’re lucky I’m feeding you at all today.”
Benton snagged a last bite before settling the lid back in place.
He edged out of the kitchen, his wife’s eyes boring into his back. He stepped aside to allow Sophie and April to pass.
Sophie laughed at the look that passed between her mother and father. “UH OH, someone’s in trouble.”
Eleven-year-old April agreed. “Even I don’t get that look anymore.”
Benton muttered. “Women…”
Callie’s daughter Sophie and her granddaughter April washed their hands at the sink. “What can we do to help?” Sophie asked.
Callie looked around the kitchen, mentally organizing the things that still needed to be done. “I was about to make the filling for the coconut cream pie.” She motioned Sophie to the refrigerator. “If you’ll cut up the veggies for the salad, I’ll let April help me with the pie.”
“I can do that.” Sophie took down a cutting board and arranged vegetables on the counter top.
April looked into the pan that Callie was stirring. “What did you want me to do?”
“We need to bake the pie shell, but it needs some holes poked in it to make sure it doesn’t get any air bubbles underneath it. Think you can handle that?”
When the oven timer went off ten minutes later Callie transferred the browned pie shell to a cooling rack and looked at the small half moon shaped holes in the crust. The crust was fine, but the irregular markings puzzled her. She called her granddaughter back into the kitchen. “April, what did you use on this crust?”
April looked from the crust, to her fingernails, to her grandmother.
Callie leaned back against the counter. “You used your fingernails?”
April nodded. “I washed my hands. You said to poke holes in it, I poked holes.”
“That’s generally done with a fork.”
April huffed out a breath. “Now you tell me.” April fled the kitchen when her grandmother gave her the same look her grandfather had received earlier.
***What’s your favorite childhood memory of helping in the kitchen, or a memory of a child helping you in the kitchen? While you’re here take a moment to look at Karla’s page, she has some pictures to share with everyone. There is also new news on my personal page. If you like what you read, please consider joining the page.***