The little red hen gets old and sentimental over PBJ

My mom used to use the phrase “said the little red hen” every time she would ask me to help her and I opted out of the work. I continued with the same tradition, this time asking my multiple children to help with things. Surprisingly enough, no one really wanted to help me put away the groceries or do the dishes even though they all enjoyed eating food off of clean plates.

As the story of the little red hen goes, she finds seeds and plants them, then harvests and mills them, and bakes them into a loaf of bread. Each step of the way she asks for help, but none of her friends pitch in. Finally, when the bread is done, she asks “Who will help me eat the bread?” and when everyone says yes, she does not share. (I imagine she would say a few other choice words that didn’t make it into the children’s books.)

Today while making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for luch, our children all off at high school and college, I thought about that hen.

I was the one who went to the store and bought the flour. I was the one who kept a sourdough starter alive for months. I was the one who baked the bread every week. I was the one who sliced the bread into two hearty pieces. Next, the jelly.

Sandwiching it in with love and her own two hands

I was the one who planted the strawberries. I picked them. And I mashed them up and added the sugar and canned them and carried them down to the freezer. I was the one who remembered to get another jar when the one in the fridge ran out. I also was the one to remember to buy the peanut butter even though it was clearly written on the shopping list that I left on the kitchen counter when I left for the grocery store.

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Life wasn’t always this way. When they were younger and we ran from activity to activity, there wasn’t time to do all these things even though I wish I did. Truthfully, I wanted to punch every mom in the face who served their kids homemade sandwich bread while mine got piece of cheese on a crusty old hotdog bun. Now that I barely see our grown children, this little red hen has changed her tune.

Here is a sandwich, kids. I made it with time and love and my own two hands. I baked the bread, I made the jelly, I bought the peanut butter. Would you like to eat it?

“Let me get you a napkin,” said the little red hen.

This article originally appeared on The Daily Record: Karrie McAllister: Little red hen gets old and sentimental over PBJ