Of course we have back-to-school traditions, but they’re small and manageable. We go school supply shopping, stock our fridge with ready-to-pack lunch items, read “O,h The Places You’ll Go” by Dr. Seuss, and lay out outfits to alleviate any undue stress. This year, my 10-year-old requested a lunch of Caprese salad for the first day — TBD if I can make that happen.
I replied to my mom, “no shopping trip, no. My trick to parenting is keeping their expectations low so I can manage to exceed them.” And, while that’s kind of what I meant — it’s not exactly. I meant to say that I always want them to be impressed by the little things. Delighted by simple joys. I want them to linger on the daily wonder, not only the big firework moments. And part of that comes from not delivering on every whim, keeping their expectations rooted in reality.
If they grow to expect the BIG, will they even notice the small and sweet?
If I’m not busy frosting first-day-of-school cakes and hanging balloon banners for the backdrop of our pictures, how do they feel special? Well, I have a theory.
My mom was the queen of special celebrations. We had thoughtful surprises and coordinating decor waiting for us, often on the kitchen table, upon waking on any number of celebratory dates. Big and small.
But, and this might be to her disappointment, those ballooned birthdays with bows and streamers were not the thing I recall when I think about my childhood. Even with all that fuss, my favorite thing my mom did was sprinkle curry powder on my cream of potato soup.
I think she’d probably read somewhere, maybe Martha Stewart Living, that that’s one way to liven up a can of soup. But to me, it was a bit more. It seemed gourmet but also thoughtful. I was often starving, maybe bratty, and always busy — and the canned soup was a quick solution for lunch or dinner in between activities.
Even in the midst of the mealtime hustle, instead of slamming down the microwaved bowl of starchy liquid, she took the time to add extra flavor and color. She garnished my canned soup — and I’m still delighted by the memory of it.
I often think about what will be my kids’ curried potato soup. Will it be the note I sometimes slip in their lunchbox? Or the way I salt and pepper their turkey sandwiches? Will they remember the way I clean their sheets when they’re away so that returning to their beds can be even better? Or the way I sometimes leave a special breakfast for them on the counter, before I leave for work?
It might be that I make elaborate snack plates full of their favorite things just for movie night. Or maybe it’ll be that I cut their snack cucumbers on the bias.
Maybe you’re a parent who does the big stuff or the kind that, like me, keeps it simple — just know that as this busy season of parenting approaches either is enough. Life, after all, is mostly made up of those very small, sweet things.
And sometimes you even get the Caprese salad.
”But First, Food” columnist Whitney Kling is a recipe developer who lives in southwest Ohio with her four kids and a cat and is developing a food memoir that’s ever-nearing completion. If she’s not playing tennis or at a yoga class, she’s in the kitchen creating something totally addictive — and usually writing about it.
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