Cooking With Ethan

Ethan recently began swiping my dish towels that hang in my kitchen. Initially, I thought he was merely wanting a tail. Each and every time, they were tucked into the backside of his pants. Sometimes one in the front too. It finally occured to me, Ethan might be destined to become a chef. The towel is merely a makeshift apron.

"How's this grandma?"

"What else can we add? Gluten-free beer? Oh yeah!"

"You wanna taste?"

"Sorry, Grandma, this thing keeps flipping food out of the pan."

"Nothing better than cooking with Grandma."

Well, unless this guy's around. Ethan loves his grandpa.