Teaching an 18-month-old to peel a courgette, and losing twenty minutes on purpose.

I've been a parent for eighteen months now, and I've spent much of that time wondering what makes the job so satisfying. What else in life asks for such continual input while returning such continual reward? Very little, so far. Today it was the turn of the potato peeler, a new tool, and a new skill to learn.

It's easy to forget that everything is new to an eighteen-month-old, and something we take so much for granted, the peeling of a potato, or in this case a courgette, can be so intriguing to a human who has never carried out such a task.

I wonder why I was totally absorbed in the task at hand, even though it took probably forty times longer to peel it with my daughter than it would have doing it myself. And moreover, teaching her a skill she is unlikely to need, or use, for some time yet. Why was the action itself so satisfying, and what is it about showing someone else, your child, or otherwise, so rewarding? Especially when there is nothing to gain beyond passing on how to do it.

I should also point out here that the peeler, a modern device, made the process safer and easier. Had I used a sharp knife I would not have been able to show her the skill at all, and would have limited the quality of the outcome too. Another point in favour of modern progress when it serves the task rather than replaces it.