I take the initiative of cooking breakfast when we wake up. It comes from a place of good intentions. I don’t want to let my Great-Grandmother do all the work, I want to show her that I’m a responsible adult.
The plan was certainly not to burn down the house, but with this old stove I’m not used to and my meager cooking skill, it’s a really easy mistake to make.
“Need help, Han?”
“Nah, it’s fine, I got this, I meant to do that.”
I do end up getting the hang of it. After a while, the kitchen even smells good.
I almost feel like there’s a gentle spirit looking over me and my cooking.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 