When we chopped any meat on the chopping board, Timothy would expect to be able to help by “cleaning” it. We’d leave as much blood and as many well-spread-out scraps of meat as we could.
If he was getting particularly stuck in, he’d stand ON the chopping board to make sure that it didn’t get away.
He’d lick the board rather than it his dinner, given the choice, so we made sure never to confuse matters by offering both at the same time: if his dinner went soggy because the biscuits had absorbed the stock or jelly, he’d often reject it – holding out for a fresh serving. And he’d get one.