I always thought housework was easy—just something women exaggerated. But when my wife left me alone for a day, I quickly learned the truth.
After work, I dropped my keys and sank into the couch. Lucy was cooking, and Danny was helping. She asked me to set the table, but I refused, dismissing it as her job. Danny volunteered, and I made a harsh comment, but Danny, confused, asked, “What’s wrong with helping, Daddy?”
The next morning, Lucy left for a conference, and I had to manage everything. I rushed to get Danny dressed and burned breakfast. The day spiraled as I failed at chores, only for Danny to effortlessly step in and show me how it’s done.
Lucy didn’t complain, she needed help. I finally understood.
