When my mom was growing up, her mom taught her to cook with a children's cookbook. She held onto it and when I was a child, my grandmother taught me to cook with the same book. My grandmother was a very proper lady...if you wanted a drink you had to say please, of course, but when she gave it to you, you had to respond with "thank you, grandmother dear". She very clearly told my mom that she would not be a babysitter for her. But...about once a year, she would take me for a very special day. One of those special days was our cooking lesson. We went to the grocery store and bought all of the ingredients and then we went to her house. She pulled out my special chair and she gave me an apron and pulled out the cookbook for me and showed me how to measure each type of ingredient, how to crack and egg without getting the shell in it, and how to bake the right way...and the mistakes to watch out for...such as holding onto the can when using an electric can opener when releasing so it wouldn't fall and splatter tomatoes all over the kitchen...like granddad did... While my mom is a good cook, I really credit this single day for making me the cook/baker I am and I often think back to the little things she taught me. When she passed and we cleaned out her house, I found the cookbook. It's one of my most cherished things, and it puts the biggest smile on my face anytime I see it. I introduced Big Sis to it over the weekend.