Sending Older Kids to Camp Proved Useful for Teaching My Little One Independence at Home

With my three teens away at YoungLife sleepaway camp and husband at work in NYC, my youngest daughter and I embraced our first-ever mother-daughter week at our condo in Vermont. For seven days straight, she has set aside her identity as the baby of the family, and pulled her weight as a capable member of this household.

At 10 years old, she is far from infancy, but when lumped together with our set of four kids, she defaults into the role of youngest. This week, without the distraction or crutch of older siblings and Dad around, my 10-year-old has stepped up into a variety of situations perfect for developing life skills and independence. After a week of mommy camp, my daughter is equipped with a new sense of confidence in her abilities.

Much of what my youngest has experienced anew or for the first time this week falls into the category of household responsibilities. It’s amazing how reframing chores into one of the ways to spend special time with Mom transforms them from annoyances to a fun platform for learning. The regular tasks that come with running a summer house provide countless unhurried opportunities to demonstrate and explain various household procedures. Without the rush of our school-year pace, I can let my daughter help with jobs and even try them solo at her own speed. We take for granted all the pieces of background knowledge and experience that combine to form competent adulthood. Until given the time to hear an explanation and the chance to experiment with a little trial and error, how would a young person learn what it takes to run a household?

If we were rushing off to some social engagement, school commitment, or Zoom meeting–as we often are when the full family is around or when school is in session–I would typically take care of a task myself or delegate it to an older family member who could complete it efficiently. Who has time on a school night to let a novice chef slice the tomatoes? (We should have been sitting down to dinner half an hour ago so we could eat, wash up, read, and get to bed at a reasonable hour!) 

This week, however, the days have seemed blissfully full of hours and my kitchen full of an eager little helper. I let my daughter prepare a cucumber for salad and took pleasure in her solution for how to slice up the end without risking her fingers; she balanced the nub on its flat surface and sliced it into four quadrants, discarding the bit of stem. I demonstrated how to use the bridge hold to safely cut up a bunch of broccoli to steam. She sliced peaches and nectarines and realized she doesn’t need to be afraid of the pits. She learned how to half strawberries and then slice out a small triangle to remove the stem and hull, a simpler knife skill to manage than twirling out a circle. She also learned how to use a can opener and safely remove a sharp lid; push down on one side of the lid and the other will pop up for you to lift. Don’t ever slide your finger on the lid to wipe off food–that’s asking for a sliced-open finger. Thankfully, I delivered this piece of advice the moment I saw my daughter moving in that direction, so no severed fingers today! 

Our culinary exploits this week also gave my daughter the chance to hone her estimation skills. Instead of me slicing and sautéing an entire sausage for the family, she determined her own portion size, only cutting off and heating up the amount she decided to eat. Our bread recipe called for 15 oz of pumpkin puree, but the can contained 29 oz. My little mathematician did some rounding and subtracting in her head to estimate that we would need about half the can. The harder piece to wrap her mind around was how to remove that half, especially with such a sticky ingredient. I guided her on how to draw an imaginary line half-way down the can and then scoop out puree with a spoon until we reached that line, explaining that some ingredient quantities don’t need to be precise.

In fact, many recipes can be modified in their procedure or by substituting or adjusting ingredients–helpful when you are short on time, run low on an item, or want a healthier version. As my sous chef this week, my daughter prepared ramen noodles, mac ‘n’ cheese, and rotini from start to finish, learning the hard way to wait to throw out the packaging with its directions until after she was done cooking. When I suggested breaking up the ramen noodles in their bag so they were shorter and easier to eat, she discovered that banging the package on the counter too hard makes holes through which bits of noodle will escape. We pinched the packet of ramen noodle seasoning to only use half the sodium-rich powder and reduced the amount of butter in the mac ‘n’ cheese. She noticed how the cooking time varied for the three pastas, and I helped her deduce that the thinner shapes cook faster. She discovered that a colander works well for draining pasta–but since it takes up a lot of room in the dishwasher, a steady hand holding the lid cracked as you tip the pot over the sink means one less dish to wash.

Extra time and freedom in the kitchen and increased interaction with ingredients (shopping, washing, storing, fetching from the pantry, growing herbs, etc.) has given my daughter some added motivation to taste new combinations of food. For instance, she tried a bite of cucumber with a nibble of falafel (which she had previously declined in the school cafeteria). While she still didn’t like the falafel, she was at least willing to try it–perhaps since she went through the effort of mixing and scooping out the dough to bake. Instead of her go-to sandwich of two pieces of cheddar cheese on a Hawaiian roll, she added a slice of tomato and a piece of deli turkey. She proudly marveled at its height as she carefully carried her plate to the table.

Emboldened by her experiments, she sprinkled a few chocolate chunks that were left over from yesterday’s baking project onto her breakfast plate this morning. “Plop!” they went into both her applesauce and her scrambled eggs. What I assumed was an accident (who would seek out those flavor and texture combos?!) was quite intentional on her part. “Mmm!” she exclaimed, scooping up an applesauce-coated chocolate chunk. With glee, she noticed the pool of melted chocolate forming in her eggs and quickly tried to poke in another chocolate piece, only to realize that her eggs had cooled down too much to cause any additional melt. It’s this willingness to have fun and run with new ideas in the kitchen that spice up one of the most incessant responsibilities of adulting–keeping your family fed. It’s a blessing to recognize the kitchen as a place for joyful creativity and nourishment, rather than the setting for the unending chore of planning, cooking, and cleaning up after meals. 

When approached with the right attitude, even cleanup can be pleasant. This week, my daughter stumbled upon her new favorite task: scrubbing messy dishes and then using the extendable faucet to spray down the sink. She shared how, if she crouches down so her eyes are at counter level, she can spot crumbs to wipe up. She noticed a flap in the dishwasher’s silverware compartment that she can open to accommodate larger utensils and popsicle holders. We rearranged the stacks of plates and bowls in the cupboard so she could reach them–useful for both selecting her own dish at meal time and so she could help unload the dishwasher. I advised against stacking up heavy plates from the dishwasher to move to the cupboard all at once. When I asked her if she could guess why, she replied, “If you drop them, there would be a lot of dishes to replace!” She also discovered how lifting the Tupperware on the top rack knocked some water down onto the previously dry dishes below; the next day she unloaded the bottom rack first. She learned to wait until after we were done reading aloud to start the dishwasher so it wasn’t too noisy to hear the story. Since shouldering more of the dish washing responsibilities this week, my daughter has an improved sense of what can be reused (like a water cup or a cutting board after slicing a loaf of bread) and what can’t (like a bowl scraped with a germy scrub brush).

My daughter relished her increased independence and confidence outside the kitchen as well. She loaded the washing machine, measured detergent, and pressed the correct buttons to run the machine. She learned how folding towels hot dog style rather than hamburger style makes them ready to hang from the towel rack. She carried the recycling out to the dumpster and learned how to lock it by clipping the carabiner through the hole in the hatch so bears can’t get in. At the library, my daughter returned and checked out her own books. Without siblings or Dad around to lift heavy loads, she carried the giant pool float and her bike up and down the stairs. At the Killington Adventure Center, my daughter chatted with the employees as she scampered up and belayed down the new rock wall, did laps on the Beast Coaster (where she is newly tall enough to drive a car unchaperoned), and cycled through the other attractions as she wished–sometimes staying for three hours without the pressure to head home with her siblings.

As much fun as it’s been to switch up our routine and pace this week, my youngest will enthusiastically welcome the return of her siblings (and playmates!) when Dad drives them back from camp tonight. Shadowing Mom and holding down the fort can be fun for a bit, and peace and quiet is certainly nice for extended reading and earlier bedtimes. But after a week of solitude, there’s nothing so sweet as the happy chaos of a family reunion, where we can cozy back up into the rhythms of life as a family of six.