Some day you will be the cook of the house.
Probably because you will realize that my cooking is awful and your dad can only make about five different things.
For now I will teach you everything I know about cooking: read a recipe, add ingredients, knead the bread dough, lick the cookie dough off the mixers, and call grandma Brooksby with questions every thirty seconds.
That's it. That's everything I know about cooking.
The job will be yours as soon as you are tall enough to see the top of the counter.
So start practicing.
And good luck. (Don't tell your dad I told you this, but he's a picky eater.)
I love you.