said she didn’t mind some of the tasks.
She enjoyed cooking spaghetti.
And she liked feeling useful.
But sometimes she struggled to finish her homework afterward.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked gently.
She looked down.
“I thought you were busy.”
I felt a familiar pang of regret.
“I’ve been traveling a lot,” I admitted. “But you can always tell me when something isn’t working.”
Maya looked up.
“Even if it’s about Tiffany?”
“Especially then.”
She thought about that for a moment.
Then asked if we could look at her weekly schedule together.
We sat at the kitchen table with a notebook.
Maya helped me list her usual activities.
School.
Homework.
Laundry.
Dinner preparation.
Household cleaning.
And time with friends.
When we added everything up, I realized her chores were taking much more time than I’d expected.
The schedule on our refrigerator hadn’t been updated to reflect those changes.
