At ten years old, I knew how to make a hamburger.
Mom would tell the story of on the way to the 1967 Worlds Fair and getting close to crossing over into Canada, we stopped at a roadside dinner. Dad made a remark about this was the last U.S, meal for a while.
Mom said I ordered enchiladas, wait staff asked what is that.
So I ordered a hamburger. Everybody knows how to make hamburgers I thought.
It came out with no vegetables/toppings/salad on it.
Mom said I won't eat it until I got lettuce, tomato and pickles on it (which added to the cost).
Back on the road, Mom said I asked why the people who ran a dinner didn't know anything about fixing food.
See, I know about making hamburgers.
Just put the vegs on it or not and eat the thing.