My father always cooked breakfast on weekends. He’d also fire up the grill for steaks or barbecue chicken and stand over them like he was the master chef.

My husband does the same thing. He makes breakfast on weekends–makes a mean pancake–and mans the grill for just about anything we cook. I didn’t think much of it at first. I grew up with a man who did the cooking and met another one who didn’t mind to cook. I realize now I’m a little spoiled.

Naturally, I had to have my main character’s father comfortable in the kitchen. He’s ready to lend a hand no matter what time of day it is. He’s into natural ingredients and will jump in the car to get a fresh piece of fish to cook for the family.

More and more men are into cooking these days. When I was younger, it was woman’s work. Julia Child was on the scene and women wanted to emulate her. Now there are TV shows galore showing men whipping up all kinds of dishes. I like that. Nothing wrong with men knowing how to cook.

My son has jumped on the cooking bandwagon. He’ll help out in the kitchen when the mood strikes him. When he was away at school, he bought himself a good knife and a cutting board. He swears by them. They usually come out front and center when he’s involved in a recipe.

The first time we cooked together was right after he came back from school. The recipe called for chipotle peppers in adobo sauce. Since my husband and I aren’t fans, I would’ve made the meal minus the peppers. My son wouldn’t hear of it and insisted I buy them. He would cut them up.

After opening the can and dumping them on a plate, we couldn’t stop laughing. They reminded us of something that was not food and had more to do with a bodily function. He took pictures and posted them on Facebook having people guess what they were. No one could. The meal was finally prepared after all the antics. My husband came home from work and we shared our story.

My son dubbed that adventure, The Matt and Mom Cooking Show. We’ve had more that followed, some just as funny. My only regret is I wish we really had them on film. We have many videos of people blowing out candles for birthdays or ripping open packages on holidays. Nice to have but sometimes you feel you’re on repeat as you watch.

I wish I had pictures of my dad at the stove, whipping up the scrambled eggs. I’d put it with the one of my husband pulling the Thanksgiving turkey out of the oven. Then next to them, I’d place the picture of the chipotle peppers. It would be a great trip down memory lane.

Hopefully, one day my son will add to my fantasy picture album. His son would have to go a long way though to top his dad’s photo but if he’ll be anything like my son, he’ll make sure he does.