When Jessica makes dinner, it’s something made from scratch – just short of killing the cow in the back yard, anyway. When I make dinner, it’s frozen, and more often than not made of cheese and pizza sauce. Tonight, then, was a rarity. I, being in charge of dinner, helped Namine make frozen chicken pot pies.

When I got home from work, Jessica told me to make dinner because she was going to bed. “Wake me up when dinner is ready,” she said. “You’re in charge.”

Wives, I’m sure you know just how dangerous an idea that can be. Well, fear not. I sat Namine on the counter and made her do all the work.


Not that Namine needed any persuasion. As I’ve mentioned before, she loves food and she loves to help. After she unboxed the pot pies, I showed her how to poke holes in each pie. She took to it with vigor.


I explained that each pie’s crust needed to be wrapped in tin foil, and handed her a strip of foil for each one. She did the rest.


She was quite proud of her work. I didn’t make her do all the work; I did the heavy lifting of putting the cookie sheet full of pot pies in the oven. While the pies were baking, she helped me empty the dishwasher of clean dishes. The lower cupboard is a deathtrap – no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to keep it in any semblance of order – but she put the silverware away, then sorted and matched her medicine syringes.



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