The Dutiful Wife

I hope my mother doesn't read this entry, because I know it will only disappoint her.

A few years ago, she gave me a stern warning that if I start doing all of the housework, my husband will get used to it and never help. I'm sure she's right, but luckily, my husband and I have always been pretty good about splitting up the chores. I do most of the laundry, scour the bathrooms and do the vacuuming and dusting, and he does the dishes and cleans the kitchen (my most-hated chores). He also does the "man stuff" like change the oil in our cars and put goop around the windows to keep bugs from coming in.

He's never said anything to me like, "that shelf is looking rather dusty," or "how about running the vacuum today," but I realized last night that he has in fact gotten used to at least one thing I do around the house.

After dinner, I mentioned that chocolate chip cookies would taste really good. He had bought some chocolate chips at the store, so he said, "yeah, you should make some." I told him never mind; I didn't really feel like baking, but he kept on about it. Every time I walked through the kitchen, he'd ask if I was baking cookies yet.

"When did you become that husband?" I asked him.

"When you became that wife," he shot back.

He had a point; he really did. He loves chocolate chip cookies, so I've sort of made it a habit that when he has a long week or a particularly bad day, I'll bake him some. It's something small that I can do that I know will brighten his day. He's always very appreciative, but now I guess he's gotten used to it.

And I will admit it. I made the cookies. After all the cookie talk, I really had a taste for them. I even brought him a couple just-out-of-the-oven ones to enjoy.

But I also left the kitchen for him to clean.