Egg Rice for Dora

Takeshi came home at four o'clock. His parents worked late that day.

His little sister Dora sat at the kitchen table. She was eight years old. She held a big wooden spoon.

"I want to make dinner," Dora said.

"You cannot cook," Takeshi said.

"Then teach me," she said. "Teach me one dish."

Takeshi looked at the clock. He was tired. He also had a lot of homework.

Dora looked at him with big eyes. "Please," she said.

"Okay," he said. "We make egg rice."

"Why egg rice?"

"It is easy. You need rice, eggs, and salt."

Dora took the cold rice from the fridge. Takeshi put a pan on the stove.

"Wash your hands first," he said.

Dora washed her hands for a long time. Then she held them up. "Clean," she said.

"Good. Now break an egg."

Dora hit the egg on the side of the bowl. The egg broke, and small bits of shell fell inside.

"Oh no," she said.

Takeshi reached for the bowl. "I can fix it," he said.

"No!" Dora pulled the bowl back. "It is my egg."

Takeshi stopped. He put his hands in his pockets. Dora took a spoon and picked out the shell. It took a very long time.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Put oil in the pan. Then wait a little."

Dora poured the oil. She turned the fire up high. Takeshi opened his mouth, but he said nothing.

She poured in the egg and the rice. The pan made a loud noise. Smoke came up fast.

"Stir it!" Takeshi said.

Dora stirred, but it was too late. The rice was black at the bottom. The kitchen smelled bad.

Dora put down the spoon. Her face went red. "I am bad at this," she said.

Takeshi looked at the black rice. He felt sorry for her. He wanted to take the pan and cook it himself. It was faster. It was also easier.

"Move over," he almost said.

Then he thought about his own first time. His mother stood next to him and watched. She never took the spoon.

"It is okay," Takeshi said. "The fire was too hot."

"Really?"

"Really. Now clean the pan, and we try again."

"You do it," Dora said quietly.

"No. This is your dish," he said. "I only talk."

Dora wiped her eyes. She washed the pan. She broke a new egg. This time the shell stayed out. She turned the fire down low.

"Now?" she asked.

"Now," Takeshi said. "Slowly."

Dora poured in the egg and the rice. She stirred and stirred. The smell was warm and sweet. The rice turned soft and yellow.

"Add a little salt," Takeshi said.

Dora added the salt. She tasted one small bite. Her eyes opened wide.

"It is good!" she said.

Takeshi smiled. His hands were still in his pockets.

The front door opened at seven. Their father came into the kitchen first.

"What is that smell?" he asked.

"Dinner," Dora said. "I made it."

Their mother looked at the bowls on the table. Then she looked at Takeshi. "Did you help?"

"He did not touch the pan," Dora said. "He only talked."

Their father sat down and took a big spoonful. He said nothing for a moment. Then he took another.

Dora filled a bowl to the top. She put it in front of Takeshi.

He picked up his spoon and began to eat.