The Lighter Side:

As I set down orange juice on the breakfast table, I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of my 10-year-old daughter struggling to cut her pancakes. Holding her knife in her left fist like a ski pole and her fork like a Wii Nunchuck, she ground the two utensils together until eventually her plate was a mess of shredded, torn pancake bits.

My future Mensa-member and current household video game champion had no more ability to use a knife than our house cat.

How did she escape learning this basic life skill?

Looking back I admit I purposely kept knives away from my kids. I thought giving a sharp object to a child could only end badly.

And on the occasion that we went to a restaurant and knives were recklessly set on the table, only seconds would pass before I would have to pry them from my children’s hands, putting an end to the inevitable sibling sword fight.

It’s possible their kid-food diet was partly to blame. After all, one doesn’t need to cut up chicken nuggets, pizza and macaroni and cheese. But most nights my kids dine on more grown-up fare like salmon, shrimp and pastas. Again, all fork-friendly foods.

Just as I was ready to brush off the knife incident as a minor blemish on my otherwise spotless parental record, I was faced with another shortcoming.

My two older girls wanted me to bake a heart-healthy corn soufflé to serve our dinner guests that night. Rushed for time, I instructed them to start without me by gathering all the ingredients and opening up the cans of creamed corn.

With the front room finally tidy, I went to check on their progress. I walked in to find every drawer in the kitchen open with my daughters rummaging through, muttering, “I don’t know. Is this a can opener?”

“No I think it’s that thing. Or maybe it’s this ?”

Dumbfounded, I interrupted. “What? Do you mean to tell me you don’t know what a can opener looks like?”

I reached into one of the drawers. “This is a can opener!”

“Oh,” they say in unison.

“Neither one of you has ever used a can opener?” I demanded, only to be met with shrugs and the onset of uncontrollable giggles.

I had to impress them with the seriousness of the situation. “It won’t be so funny when the Big One comes and Daddy and I are squished under the entertainment center and you kids have to fend for yourselves. What will you do then? Huh? I’ll tell you what you’ll do. You’ll starve! I can see the story on the Ten o’clock News now: “Local children starve to death in a kitchen surrounded by cans of food!”

Now gasping for air, Samantha somehow manages to squeak out, “We won’t starve. We’ll just order a pizza.”

I ignored that comment. “This weekend, the two of you are going to learn about the kitchen, and have a class in advanced knife work.”

Morning came and after a little Show and Tell with the kitchen utensils and appliances, I presented my children a stack of easy-to-cut French Toast.

After a lengthy dissertation on proper knife holding and exact index finger placement for maximum pressure, I encouraged them to try it themselves.

Chloe tried to flaunt her knife skills, but soon food went flying off the edge of her plate.

Samantha made a couple feeble attempts and then completely ignored my advice. Again, more giggles.

I was ready to admit defeat when my 5-year old asked, “Mommy, am I doing it right?”

Frankly, I forgot she was even at the table. But now, I was thrilled to learn someone had actually been paying attention.

“Why yes!” I gushed. “You are doing it right! Wow, girls look at your much younger sister. See how well she wields her knife. Why can’t you be more like her? Excellent job, Peyton. Here, have some more sugary syrup.”

I knew very well I had violated the advice of every parenting book written by comparing the children to one another, but I didn’t care, I was desperate.

It didn’t matter anyway. Soon Chloe and Samantha resorted to ripping off bites of French toast with their teeth, much like the feral children they were apparently meant to be.

Well, I realized, at least my youngest child could someday enter civilized society. In the meantime, maybe the Wii will invent a game for the butter knife?

KRISTEN HANSEN BRAKEMAN is a La Cañada resident. E-mail her at krisbrake@earthlink.net. KRISTEN HANSEN BRAKEMAN is a La Cañada resident. E-mail her at krisbrake@earthlink.net.