Oh, how I wanted to help out in the kitchen when I was a little girl, but my mother absolutely hated to have anyone else around when she was cooking, especially for holiday meals. One Thanksgiving I begged to be allowed to help out by chopping up onions for the dressing. Finally, Mom relented and let me give it a try. Sure enough, in spite of my best efforts to stem the flow, I was soon blinded by tears as the onion’s pungent fumes made contact with the sensitive membranes of my eyes. I am sure you can almost guess what happened next. Yes, I ended up cutting my finger with the knife. It wasn’t a terrible wound and did not require medical attention, thank goodness. If a trip to the doctor had been warranted, on a holiday of all days, then my mother would have never have let me forget the inconvenience. But she summarily took over and I don’t believe I was allowed to chop an onion again in her kitchen for a long, long time, maybe not even until I reached adulthood.