When Creativity Comes Home for Dinner

I’ve always believed that every person is an artist in their own right. Creativity isn’t limited to canvases or clay, it's everywhere. It shows up in engineering, gardening, street art, caring for others, and of course… food. There are endless ways we express who we are.

For my youngest daughter, Kylie, her art shines most brightly in the kitchen.

Every time she makes the trip home from school, she somehow arrives ready to feed us, as if finals, papers, and college life weren’t enough to fill her plate. I’m constantly amazed. On Thanksgiving, she took on the entire Thanksgiving meal herself. The whole thing. And she did it with this calm, joyful energy that made the house feel warm long before the oven even preheated.

It’s funny because I’ve never loved cooking. Not even a little. If I could outsource one thing in this house forever, it would be meal prep. So, when I casually say, “Pasta with mushrooms and broccolini sounds good,” and Kylie immediately starts a shopping list like she’s been hired as our personal chef, I cannot tell you how grateful I am. Before I know it, dinner is on the table, and it tastes amazing.

And no, she didn’t learn this from me. This is 100% her own passion, grown from practice and curiosity and a genuine love for feeding people. As much as I’d like to take credit for my kid's creativity, I can’t. She has built her own talents, followed her own interests, and made her own magic.

Now, let’s be honest: eating like royalty does come with consequences. We’ve added a few “Kylie’s home” pounds, and she’s the first to notice, gently nudging us out the door for family walks. We wander the neighborhood pretending a leisurely stroll can undo a plate of creamy pasta, and even though it doesn’t, the time together feels just as good as the meal itself.

Now, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Keith’s part in supporting Kylie’s art. His “payment” for these delicious restaurant-worthy meals comes in two parts. First, he’s the one happily funding every ingredient on Kylie’s shopping list. Whatever she needs, mushrooms, fresh herbs, fancy cheeses, obscure spices he’s never heard of, he just nods, smiles, and hands over the card like a proud investor in her culinary dreams.

And second, he takes on dish duty. Every single time.

Kylie may be a gifted chef, but she cooks like she’s expecting a cleanup crew of twelve. Pots, pans, spatulas, bowls… somehow all of them get used. It often looks like a cooking show exploded across our countertops. But Keith steps right in, rolls up his sleeves, and restores the kitchen to civilization. It’s his own quiet art form, cleaning the chaos our culinary artist leaves behind.

In the end, though, every messy counter, every extra walk…it's all worth it. Kylie’s cooking isn’t just food; it’s care, creativity, and connection served on a plate. It’s her way of loving us.

And I’m so lucky to be on the receiving end of it.