Wash your hands

As a parent, you get used to having no privacy. The other day I was interrupted in the bathroom* by my child coming in to wash her hands:

Me: “Hey, Frogger, what are you doing?”

The Frogger: “I was helping Mommy make dinner and I touched the raw meat. So, now, I have to wash my hands so my tummy won’t hurt.”

Me: “Good job. Got to avoid that dysentery.”

Huzzah for food safety, especially considering that her professed life goal is to become a chef, like Uncle Ben. I wish* I could say that she had learned about the importance of hand washing from her favorite cooking shows on the Food Network (whatever the current iteration of Ina Garten and Giada de Laurentis are). Continue reading “Wash your hands”