The fine art of sharing food

So, here’s a fun little story (and absolutely true story too). You probably got that baking is an activity done on regular basis at home. Oz is pretty good with a whisk, obviously he’s messy, and he is rather, well, territorial about it too. 
At nursery, they sometimes do some baking. Few weeks ago, they baked cookies. On Friday, they baked cheesy scones. When I say ‘they’, I mean one child took over the mixing, and the other kids were watching. 

That kid taking over and (allegedly) growling like a very angry bear if anybody was trying to take away the whisk/bowl/dough from his grasp was – no points for guessing – Oscar

While I am really happy (and proud) that he enjoys baking and taking part, I am rather baffled by his behaviour (and a little miffed that nursery staff let him get his ways…). He’s usually pretty good at sharing things, except his musical instruments and his food. May Mother Nature have mercy on your karma if you dare trying a bite of his food (unless he’s decided to share a pre-chewed bit of something, in which case, you out to feel lucky for being given that gooey pre/chewed crumb of ‘stuff’). 

Husband and I have always stressed the importance of sharing: sharing toys being one of the main thing. But sharing food, how does one tackles that? We share food with him, mostly by choice.  S̶o̶m̶e̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶ ̶ Often he doesn’t give us that much of a choice. If he’s decided that your broccoli looked most appetising, he’ll have it. He has a plethora of weapons of persuasions to achieve this goal. Beside, who is going to argue with their child if they want to eat extra vegetables? 

But how do I get him to share his food? Because here’s the cherry on top of the icing of this weird cake : he wouldn’t let us try HIS cheesy scone! He baked it therefore he ought to eat it. (We did get some when he wasn’t looking, although he did give us the look that said “I took one bite and half of the scone is gone already, I’m on to you“. 


behold the mighty cheese scone!
How do I get him to share the baking experience? I don’t wish to make it a big deal, because quite frankly, I don’t think it really is, but still, I don’t want it to become one. Any idea? I wonder if that’s because I didn’t let him help with the icing of the chocolate & Guinness cupcakes we made before St Patrick’s Day. I knew he’d want to taste the ingredients, it was bad enough stopping him from tasting the Guinness (he did have a teeny tiny taste, and needless to say that in true stereotype confirmation, his Irishness really came through and he seemed rather eager to get another drop of the black stuff), but keeping him from eating the Philadelphia cream cheese and/or the icing sugar would have been pretty tough. (I’ll post my recipe later this weekend) 


Chocolate and Guinness Cupcakes


Either way, if you have any tips, by all mean share away! 

Oscar’s reaction.

As far as I am concerned, I am a chef, a pastry chef, I started baking before some of my peers could sit up unaided. I will let them handle the whisk once they understand that it is not just a whisk but the extension of their creativity through their hand (or some other pompous ‘horse-manicure’ jibber jabber TV chefs say when they need to explain their actions. 

Beside I am half-French and my Frenchicity gives me the right to trump every body in the nursery’s kitchen and by the way of course I growl to express my discontent : I have yet to master the art of talking for Sacrebleu’s sakes! (Hey I can say a few words in 2 languages, but as stringing a sentence together, I’m a couple of months off). And also, I was the only one without a runny nose on Friday. Who wants to eat scones baked by kids with runny noses? 

Yeah I thought so too.

I took one for the team really. And I’ll add: I regret nothing.

And I knew maman and daddy ate some of my scone. I. Knew. It.

I shall let them know around 02.47 am how I feel about this treachery by singing them the song of my people and requesting to be carried around my room by maman until I see fit to resume my slumber. Ha! 

(Or I’ll just eat half of their breakfast like I usually do on Sundays. I hope maman will bake crêpes. I like crêpes.)


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