One of the girls last week said that she wanted to make pizza for dinner, so when we planned the menu for the week, we put that in the rotation. We don't usually make pizza -- normally, we keep that option in reserve for nights when we don't want to cook, and we pick one up from Papa Murphy's. (And in fact, that would have been cheaper than the crusts, cheese, sauce, and toppings. Sigh. But it was a Project, so whatever.)

I bought pre-made crusts (single-serving size, because the store was out of the big ones), a can of pre-made sauce, grated cheese, sliced mushrooms, canned pineapple, and fresh sausage. I cooked the sausage myself before we started the project. And then I called the girls into the dining room and told them they would be making dinner.

I did a lot of setup for them, but here are the things they did: Kiera opened the sauce (I started the can opener, but she did the rest), spooned out sauce onto the crusts, and spread it around. They both sprinkled on cheese. They both put on toppigngs, and the final handfuls of cheese.

Kiera ripped up lettuce, and Molly rinsed it. Kiera washed cucumbers, and Molly sliced them. Both girls picked cherry tomatoes from our garden. Molly trimmed green beans, and Kiera ran water into the pot to steam them.

I handled all stove and oven stuff. I probably could've let them turn the stove on, but I don't want them getting any ideas.

They did a really good job. I let them make the salad to their own tastes, so it was heavy on the cucumbers and light on the lettuce. Kiera piled the pizza toppings high, but it worked fine.

Molly also wrote a menu that included the line, "Let's hear it for our chefs, Molly and Kiera Burke, and also their assistant, Naomi Kritzer!" She was immensely pleased at having a hand in dinner. Little does she know that she just took another step towards our long-term goal of having the kids plan and cook one meal each week...

1. Ed and I were debating whether Molly would appreciate Monty Python. She's 7, almost 8, and I predict that someday she will be the sort of dork who will stand around reciting the Dead Parrot Sketch with her equally dorky friends. Not that I ever knew anyone like that, when I was a kid. Anyway, she may someday be able to recite vast quantities of this stuff from memory, but we pulled it up on YouTube, and at the moment, she finds it less interesting than whatever book she happens to have in her hands.

Kiera, on the other hand, was instantly hooked. She's stopped requesting Def Leppard and AC/DC videos while waiting for Molly to finish brushing her teeth, and instead has started requesting Monty Python sketches. (Which are available on YouTube in pretty much their entirety. What, are you surprised?) She was particularly impressed by the Ministry of Silly Walks and the "I want to report a burglary" one. Go figure.

2. At dinner tonight, Kiera turned to Ed and said, "You are an ADHESIVE." We had her repeat this three times because we were really not sure we were hearing her correctly. Finally I asked, "Why is Dad an adhesive?" Her gleeful response: "Because he sticks to things. Like ME! AND TREES!"

Alrighty then.

3. At breakfast the other day, Kiera cuddled up at my side and said, "You're a sweet Mama." A minute later she added, "I tried a bite of your ear last night, that's how I know."

(Edited to add: I knew I'd posted about Kiera's bizarre sense of humor before. One of these days I will go through all my back posts and add tags. I'll need to have something I really want to procrastinate on, though, to motivate me.)