One of the things that I first loved about this house was the fact that it has a 10-foot expanse of kitchen countertop. Some people look for walk-in closets or a jacuzzi tub. Me? I wanted to be able to stretch out and nap on the counter, if it came to that. Contrary to the postage-stamp work spaces in my apartment kitchens of the past, Hudson House of
fers a wide open stage on which to perform my (messy) culinary genius. And it also has a spot for Sam.From the get-go, Sam's claimed the space down by the radio: a little-boy vantage point on the goings-on during meal prep and clean up. Soon, he began having breakfast and snacks and special drinks up there rather than at the little table at the other end of the kitchen. And eventually, he started helping me make muffins and cookies, kneeling beside the electric mixer and feeding it ingredients with the utmost care. It's one of my favourite sights, Sam on the counter.
When he was two, I lifted him up and down (he especially liked the huggy trip to the floor). At three, he started dragging his "superchair" over to the spot to climb up on his own. At four, he's more expedient, asking for a boost instead (I squat down so he can climb up from my bended knee). And lately he's been figuring out how to scramble up himself without using the drawer handles as toeholds. By 5 or 6, he'll be bounding up there easily. But how many more years will this growing boy choose to sit up on the counter to chat with me as I make dinner or join me to
watch the birds and squirrels play in the big apple tree? It's hard to say.I do know that some of my best memories of his early childhood will be tied to that end of the countertop. Those few square feet will always evoke Sam's quirky conversation over morning oatmeal, his smile of satisfaction on finishing a well-earned afternoon
hot chocolate, his after dinner delight in opening another miniature door on the Christmas advent calendar, and the happy concentration of baking a batch of muffins with mommy on Sunday morning. I haven't taken a moment of his countertop company for granted ... nor, I think, has Sam—as my collection of happy photos may already have proved.
1 comment:
I spent more evenings than I care to remember on the countertop of house growing up...usually because I didn't get asked to the movies or I didn't make first chair or some other event of great consequence to a tween and then teen. And I haven't outgrown it - as my Mom can testify to - and will mourn (a bit) when she tears down those ugly countertops in the spring. So I doubt if Sam will outgrow it ever too... He may not be your Bunny anymore, but I can guarantee that he'll always cherish the counter seat.
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