Mama bear

Gabriel and I went to a Young Chef's Academy class this morning. It was supposed to be a neighborhood Mom's group event, but the one other Mom and kid that were supposed to come didn't show up. The cost was $35.00 and Gabriel had been looking forward to it for weeks. I was a little apprehensive, just because he sometimes doesn't take to alot of structure well and he has a tendency to give up on stuff if he thinks it's too hard. But since he's going to school three days a week and the teachers haven't mentioned anything problems, I had a little hope that he might find it fun.

The place seemed really cool at first, with a brightly colored kitchen, and all the kids getting to wear aprons and sit on stools at a stainless steel counter. It became clear to me after the first 5 minutes or so, however, that neither The Chef nor his assistant (an EXTREMELY bored-looking high school girl) were very good with smaller kids. To make things worse, all the other kids in the class were regulars and had obviously been coming for awhile. The only exception was a small 3-year-old who had his older brother helping him out. I knew we would probably be in trouble when Bennett and his Mom still weren't there after 15 minutes. Gabriel kept looking at me through the glass (where the parents could stay and watch), and asking where Bennett was. Then he kept squiggling on his stool so much that it would end up too far away from the counter for him to reach anything, but no one noticed so I would run in and scoot him up. I told him that it didn't look like Bennett was coming, but that he was doing a great job - just keep listening to the chef. The problem was, the chef was kind of an idiot. I kept thinking how I could do so much better getting not just Gabriel, but all the kids engaged and excited about cooking.

They were making a quiche (another problem since Gabriel doesn't like eggs), and Gabriel tried to chop the onion and Swiss cheese with his really cool pizza cutter-type slicer. But most of it kept landing on the floor. Once again, no one noticed or tried to help him do it better until almost the whole onion was on the floor. Then it was his turn to crack the egg and try to put it in the bowl. The whole thing ended up on the counter. Although the chef tried to be nice and laugh it off, you could tell he was irritated. And of course, Gabriel could tell he was irritated and thought he had done something wrong.

All of a sudden I noticed he was rubbing his eyes, and for a second I thought the onion was bothering him. Then his bottom lip started to stick out like it has since he was a baby and about to cry. I went in and took him off to the side where no one could hear us and he managed to get out, "I want to go home" just before the tears started. I tried to tell him that they were almost done and he was going really well. I don't want him to be one of those kids that can't see anything through to the end if it's too hard (like I am). But he held his guns, and since I was inclined to agree with the shabby way they had run the class, I quietly took off his apron and hung it back on the peg. The Chef sort of smiled and mumbled, "Sorry," as we were walking out.

I wanted to punch him. And the bored girl who was supposed to be helping. They made my kid CRY. And have a terrible time at something he had looked forward to for weeks.

Once we got outside I gave him a big hug and we drove just up the street to Starbucks. We got Chai, warm milk and mini donuts, and it didn't take long before he looked like his happy little self again. My anger started to wane a bit, but not enough to complete forget. I sent an email tonight telling them how disappointed I was at the outcome. And a suggestion to hire people who know how to work with young kids if you are going to include them in your classes.

That Mama Bear instinct is a mighty powerful one.