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

I've now been a parent for eighteen months, and I've considered through that time what it is that makes the job of the parent so satisfying. I've wondered what other tasks in life carry such gravity, and continual input, but also reflect back such continual reward. Very few I have encountered thus 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. Which then makes the act of showing how to carry out such a task equally satisfying. I'm considering what it is about the act of teaching and showing that makes it feel so rewarding.

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 the dissemination of understanding of how to complete a task.

My daughter learned something, frankly, useless for now. I took forty times longer to peel a courgette than I needed to. Yet it felt like twenty minutes well spent.

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 nod towards modern progress acting in alignment with the task itself, rather than against it.