As the children hung their coats and hats in the mud room and tumbled into the steamy kitchen the noise rose to wake the dead. Grandma Cheryl smiled, seemingly unaware that her "grandchildren" were Gates Elementary fourth-graders and complete strangers no less. The charade was convincing and we were eager participants a perfect recipe for fun.

The recipe for lunch, however, would take some doing. Piled on the table were carrots and potatoes for stew. Dried corn waited for grinding and sifting for corn gems. The leftover ears would be boiled to make jelly and then tossed in a bucket for those heading out to the "privy."

Two boys were given knives to chop onions which made the moms in the room cry. But soon each remaining child wielded a knife so we wiped our tears and busied ourselves counting fingers.

"Cut away from yourself!" we hollered.

Every now and then Grandma Cheryl threw a handful of water at the stove. I'm not sure if it was to cool it down or just to hear it spit. Either way, it kept the children mindful.

"Do you know what this is?" asked Grandma Cheryl, pointing to a compartment the size of a bread box just above the burners.

Inside sat a pristine tea cup. "Perfect," she cooed as she took a sip.

"The warmer served a very special purpose for families a hundred years ago. Do you know what it was?" she asked.

Of course no one did. Imagine our surprise to discover it doubled as an early incubator for premature babies. Not exactly a science, but it worked more than once.

"I was premature," offered one little boy.

"Oh, you were! Well, we're so glad you're here today," replied Grandma Cheryl.

The boy's friends ribbed him and he blushed. Kids have no idea what a blessing they are.

In the 1890s women had lots of children but then generally died around 49. That's proof that spending all day in the kitchen will kill a person. That and using boiled corn cobs for toilet paper.

I noticed one little girl still wearing her stocking cap mid-morning. Not only was it the perfect shade of pink, but also a precious souvenir from her mom's bout with breast cancer. Moms are blessings, too.

Lunch took awhile even with all the "help." Grandma Cheryl demonstrated setting a table "proper" as she recalled packing her china in bags of flour for the long journey to this country.

"Unless you're American Indian, you're from someplace else," she said.

And we were. Like the early settlers to Nebraska quite a few came from German ancestry. But there were a handful from Africa, a couple from Mexico, and one each from Poland, Russia and Bangladesh.

"That's so neat!" said Grandma Cheryl as each child proudly shared a bit of heritage. And she encouraged those who didn't know to find out.

Never before have 34 black, blue, brown and green eyes been so intent upon a boiling pot. It just goes to show that hard work produces pride and appetite. And no one complains about a meal that took hours to make. I'll have to remember that back in 2008.

After lunch the kitchen and pantry became a beehive of sweepers and wipers and dishwashers, all thrilled to do their part. It's obviously more fun to clean a kitchen a century ago.

The day ended with the children taking turns dipping candles.

"Who thinks it would've been fun to have lived in the 1890s?" Grandma Cheryl asked.

Seventeen hands shot up even those belonging to the premature boy and the pink-capped girl. But we moms preferred 2008, hands down. We'd leave with good memories, gratefulness, respect for those brave early settlers and a desperate need for a bathroom.

Happy Birthday, Nebraska! You've come a long way, baby!