Helper

"Oh, flour," Peter said from his perch on a little stool beside where I was rolling out lefsa, which brought his armpits up to counter level. He was reminding me of what to do next.

After watching me roll out a few of the balls into paper thin, irregular-shaped circles, he began taking initiative and helping. First he would point to the balls on the counter. "More, more?" Then he figured out something he could do: when I flipped a piece of lefsa onto the hot griddle, he would hand me the next ball. He reminded me to add flour after each one, and took upon himself the task of using the bench knife to scrape up sticky spots - or just to swoosh the flour along the counter's edge. He made his hands into fists, like mine on the ends of the rolling pin, and said, "Roll, roll!" as he moved them over the floury cloth.

Nana asked if anyone wanted to eat a piece of lefsa, and Peter was an eager volunteer. After he finished his piece, he asked if he could "neat" some more. Then he looked around and saw that the counter was covered with flour and even a few dough scraps. "Neat?" he asked me, holding up a little piece. "Other one neat?" (as he held up a pinch of flour.) "Other one neat?" Handily, it wasn't until the last few balls that he began looking for ways to spice things up by rolling or tossing me the ball instead of handing it to me (accompanied by impish glances and giggles).

And then it was time to clean up. We washed at the kitchen sink together, and then I brushed off Peter's floury front with a little broom, which he was then eager to put away. And he wasn't still wasn't tired of helping. After that, we set the table together (Peter helped to get the silverware out of the drawer and put it all on the table, walking around several times to get the right pieces in the right places. Every place setting was unique, but he does know that some pieces go on each side of the plate and was careful never to have all three together on one side). Then we made a salad. Peter wanted to tear the lettuce ("piece, piece"), and he got started okay but he asked if he could eat some, and after that not much went into the bowl. He would tear a long strip off the side of a leaf, and it would snake right into his mouth. Then he would tear off a small piece for the bowl, and the remaining half of the leaf would go back to his mouth.

So, you can tell from the fruit of his labors that it was done by a two-year-old. But he wants to help! And it's not a burden to him, but a privilege and a delight. I'd say that counts for quite a bit. Peter, you can help me any day.