Summary of “A Lesson on Parenting From the Kitchen Counter”

One evening, my 4-year-old daughter piped up, asking if she could do something to help with dinner.
Deeply satisfying, yet it was her pride that filled the room.
At the time, my wife, Lisa, was a medical resident, and suddenly evenings in the kitchen with our daughters, Tarpley and Yancey, were my business.
As a kid growing up in South Carolina, the kitchen was an avoided room.
As I found out with my girls, the kitchen is the best room in which to domesticate beastly primates and to teach, well, everything: learning to wield a dangerous tool, long-range planning, focusing on a task, discovery, invention, being the star of the moment, working the back bench.
She and her friend blocked the entrance to the kitchen with chairs-no adults allowed-as if putting on one of their self-written plays.
By middle school, the kitchen was the way all of us ordered our day-who’s cooking tonight?-with, at first, one of two answers and then four.
Fakesgiving dinner, as she calls it, is still how our family reconvenes.

The orginal article.