At one point, he held up one of the kids’ shirts and asked, “Does this go in the dryer?”
Vanessa stared at him.
“You don’t know?”
He looked sheepish.
“No.”
“Then I guess you’re learning two lessons tonight.”
Even I laughed at that.
While the machines ran, we talked.
Not perfectly. Not peacefully every second.
But honestly.
Josh agreed to take over several regular household jobs instead of saying he’d “help more.” He’d handle his own laundry, half the children’s laundry, grocery shopping twice a month, and two school pickups each week.
Vanessa agreed she couldn’t keep absorbing every need her father had without telling anyone.
And I made my own position clear.
“I love you,” I told her. “I love the kids. If there’s an emergency, ask me. If you’re overwhelmed, ask me. I may say yes.”
She gave me a small smile.
“And you may say no.”
“Exactly.”
The following Saturday, they came over again.
Josh carried a container of food.
The kids ran straight into the backyard.
Vanessa walked through my kitchen empty-handed.
I noticed immediately.
“No laundry?” I asked.
She laughed.
“No laundry.”
Then she hesitated.
“I wanted to say something.”
I waited.
“I’m sorry for what I said. About you being home all day.”
