The kitchen was unusually lively that afternoon, not because of sizzling oil or clattering pans, but because Cubis had decided it was time to help Dad cook. The moment Dad pulled a basket of sweet potatoes onto the counter, Cubis’ eyes lit up with curiosity. Sweet potatoes were a favorite, and clearly, this was an activity Cubis didn’t want to miss.
Dad washed the sweet potatoes carefully, explaining each step as if Cubis were a tiny apprentice chef. Cubis sat close by, head tilted, watching the water run over the dusty skins. Every time a potato slipped and splashed, Cubis jumped back in surprise, then leaned forward again, fascinated. Dad laughed softly, amused by how seriously Cubis seemed to be taking the lesson.
When it was time to peel, Cubis tried to help in the only way possible—by gently patting the potatoes and occasionally attempting to hold one steady. Though the help wasn’t exactly practical, it was full of good intentions. Dad praised Cubis anyway, saying, “You’re doing great,” which made Cubis puff up with pride.
As the sweet potatoes began to steam, the kitchen filled with a warm, comforting smell. Cubis’ nose twitched, and patience became harder with every passing minute. Cubis paced back and forth, peeking into the pot, clearly wondering why cooking took so long. Dad explained that good food needed time, and Cubis settled down, trusting Dad completely.
Finally, the sweet potatoes were ready. Dad mashed a small portion, letting it cool before offering Cubis a taste. Cubis took a cautious lick, then another, and suddenly the hesitation vanished. The soft, sweet flavor was irresistible. Cubis’ happy expression said everything—this was worth the wait.
They sat together on the kitchen floor, sharing the quiet joy of the moment. It wasn’t just about the sweet potato treat; it was about being together, learning, and sharing something made with care. For Cubis, helping Dad cook wasn’t just fun—it was love served warm, one sweet bite at a time. 🍠💛
