Chapter 390 He Had a Point
Kisa frowned. ‘It is just the three children in the
house. and me with Ada still sleeping soundly in my arms, and the other two probably still sleeping, too.
So who could be in the kitchen? Could Gilbert have come over again
without telling me?‘ With that in mind, she carefully removed Ada’s arm from across her stomach
and quietly got out of bed.
The bright morning sun shone into the house. When she stepped out of the room, the sound from the ki
tchen
became more and more audible. She walked over in puzzlement
and found that it was Blake. He was busy in
the kitchen.
Blake saw her and greeted her. “Good morning, Ma’am.”
Kisa was startled
to see the fire on the stove and hurriedly turned it off. “What are you doing? Are you hungry? Come on
out. Whatever you like to eat, I will make it for you.”
Blake shook his head and then deftly turned the fire on again. Kisa saw him stepping on the
chair and stirring the pasta in the pot with a spatula, and her eyes widened in
shock.
“Blake, y-you know how to cook pasta?”
Blake smiled thoughtfully at her. “Ma’am, you go out and
rest for a while. Breakfast will be ready soon.”
Kisa was still worried about the boy getting burned and hurriedly said, “Let me do it.”
Blake shook his head again. “I can do it. I always make breakfast
for Mom at home, and sometimes I cook for Dad.”
If she had not seen how much Jensen and Mia loved the boy, she would have wondered if the
boy was being abused at their place.
While Kisa thought, Blake said to her, “Don’t worry, Ma’am. My cooking is delicious.”
Seeing how persistent the boy was, Kisa relented. She reminded him,
“Be careful. If you can’t handle it, call me over, okay?”
Blake nodded vigorously.
It completely amazed Kisa. After all, Blake was only five years old, still a child. So she was still worried.
After washing up, she leaned against the kitchen door and watched for a long time. Even though Blake
was still small, he was very skilled at cooking. He not only cooked pasta but also made
sandwiches. Watching the way he put in the greens and squeezed the salad sauce, even
heating a jug of milk like a pro, Kisa was in awe, feeling that she was not as good as a five–year–old.
Blake made the breakfast and brought it to the table.
Kisa looked at him and asked, “Who taught you how to cook?”
။
“Dad,” Blake said matter–of–factly. “He said, if I can
cook, I won’t die of hunger.”
Kisa was amused but could not deny that he had a point. She went into the kitchen to
help him bring out the pasta. “Do you enjoy cooking? If you don’t like it, I will
talk to your godfather and godmother later.”
“Err…” Blake seemed to ponder about it for
a moment and then said, “Whether I like to cook or not depends on who I’m cooking for.
If it’s for someone I like, then I like to cook.”
Kisa frowned, amazed by how mature the way he spoke. Then you-”
“I like Dad and Mom a lot, so I like to cook for them.”
“Oh!” Kisa stroked his head and praised him. “You are such a filial child. Whoever can be your mom an
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