Overheard while the kids are in the kitchen--"Joel, do we need a recipe book?" "No, more salt, please." "Yes, here you go." "Thanks" "Where's the rolling pin?" "I want the scissors, please." (At this point I quickly appear).
"Mami, we were trying to make honey" (as I survey the goopy mess all over the counter). "I don't think Elena should eat it, though. It might be a little bit yucky."
A bit doubtfully--"Joel, I don't think we should have added the oil". As far as I can tell, the concoction is a mixture of sugar, cinnamon, canola oil, apple juice and perhaps coffee grounds. I agree with Ariana--the oil was probably not a good idea, and definitely not for Elena. I'm too amused by the conversation to intervene beyond making sure that no scissors or knives are within reach.
"It says we have to add lettuce." "Joel, if you add soap in there, it will taste poisonous. Like paint." (Note: Their only taste of soap has been from ingesting bathwater, which I firmly discourage, and I do not believe either has tasted paint).
Happily--"Look, here's a whipped cream cake! Without any wheat, eggs, cornstarch or corn syrup. Hear that Joel? We can eat it! Always let a grown-up help you with a knife or the stove." (At least they remember some of the basic safety information).
"And you need candles with fire. Joel, you should let me turn on the fire." (We don't have matches, and the lighters we have are inaccessible).
Both of them beaming with delight--"We had fun cooking, mami!"