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The lesson

When I was a boy my mom once told me that it was important for me to learn how to do the cooking and the laundry because when I grew up, I needed to be self-sufficient. I think I must have been 9 or 10 years old at the time. The logic made sense. She then proceeded to teach me the basics of cooking. I shadowed her in the kitchen as she made the food. She sometimes let me sauté vegetables or fry meats. I don't know why I was to one she targeted. She has four children and each of the other three were capable of preparing a meal, even my older brother, who has some kind of autism that gives him an amazing ability to remember dates and events. Despite having what many "experts" called a disability, he was the first to leave home and the first to get a job. He also had the best grades in high school. I'm quite certain he was able to learn how to cook. For some reason, Mother chose me.

Once I learned how to make a meal, I don't think my mother cooked much after that. The word that came to mind when I realized what had happened was hoodwinked. However, if I look back on it with my adult mind, I now know that what she did was quite clever. Being a single mother meant that she didn't have the time or the energy to do everything. Recruiting one of us to take care of the cooking was an essential task. In hindsight, I'm glad that she did it. If it hadn't been for her teaching me how, I would probably never have learned.


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