Cooking

Cooking

Jeff woke with a start. How long had he been sleeping! He was supposed to be watching Kera!

Bolting out of his chair, he started calling her. Glancing at his watch, fifteen twenty minutes at most. Kera was five, it wasn’t like she could get in so much trouble, unless... she wouldn’t go outside by herself, would she? He flew out the front door.

Running outside he finally heard her calling from the back porch, “Daddy what are you doing outside?”

He could breathe again.

“Just checking the yard, Honey,” he said, walking into the kitchen.

The kitchen was a disaster! Dishes and pans everywhere. Cabinets opened, canisters were out and opened as well as bread, crackers and breakfast cereal boxes. A whole gallon of milk was on the counter with little of it still in the jug. The floor covered with drips, and cereal, and who knows what.

As he stood there in shock, Kera watched him from the other side of the kitchen. He knew this moment would be a challenge.

“Kera,” he said in is most controlled voice, “were you trying to make something?”

He saw Kera relax, then smile, “I’ll help clean up Dad, I promise!”

“What were you making Honey,” he asked, trying not to sound the way he was actually feeling.

Kera whipped a pile of bread and other ingredients around from behind her, “I made you lunch!” she said, “I made it myself!”

The look on her face told it all, she was very proud of her surprise. Dad just couldn’t ruin that.

“I love it!” he said.

As he lie awake with a rousing stomach ache that night, he made plans to enroll Kera in a cooking class.

She got her own show on public television when she was twelve.