I always thought housework was easy—just something women complained about. But when my wife left me alone for a day to handle everything myself, I learned the hard way that I was the problem.
I came home from work, tossed my keys onto the table, and collapsed onto the couch. It had been a long day, and all I wanted was to relax.
The warm scent of something delicious drifted from the kitchen. Lucy was at the stove, stirring a pot. Our six-year-old son, Danny, stood on a chair beside her, his little hands struggling to peel a carrot.
Lucy glanced over her shoulder. “Jack, can you set the table?”
I barely looked up from my phone. “That’s your job.”
She didn’t respond right away. I heard her sigh—the same tired sigh I’d heard a hundred times before. Danny, of course, didn’t notice.
“I’ll do it, Mommy!” he said eagerly, hopping down from his chair.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Lucy said, giving him a warm smile.
I shook my head. “You’re gonna turn him into a girl, you know.”
Lucy stiffened, but she didn’t turn around. Danny frowned at me. “What’s wrong with helping, Daddy?”
“Boys don’t do housework, kid,” I said, leaning back on the couch.
Danny looked at Lucy, confused. She gave him a small pat on the back and handed him the silverware. “Go on, set the table,” she said softly.
I watched as Danny carefully placed forks and spoons on the table, looking proud of himself, like he was doing something important.
The next day at work, I overheard Lucy’s friends inviting her to their annual conference. It was just an overnight trip, nothing big. At first, she hesitated. Then she looked thoughtful.
That night, she brought it up while I was watching TV. “Hey, my work conference is this week,” she said. “I’m going. I’ll be back by noon the next day.”
I glanced at her. “Okay?”
“You’ll need to take care of Danny and the house while I’m gone.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s easy.”
Lucy smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smile. It was the kind that made me feel like I was missing something. “Good,” she said. Then, she went to pack her bag, and I texted my boss that I would be off tomorrow.
The next morning, I groaned as I rolled over in bed, squinting at the alarm clock. 7:45 AM.
Wait. 7:45?
Panic shot through me as I bolted upright. Lucy always woke me up when she got Danny ready for school. But she wasn’t here. Because she had left. And I had overslept.
“Danny!” I shouted, stumbling out of bed. “Get up, we’re late!”
Danny shuffled out of his room, rubbing his eyes. “Where’s Mommy?”
“She’s at work,” I muttered, yanking open his dresser drawers. “Where are your clothes?”
“Mommy picks them.”
Of course, she does. Digging through the drawer, I pulled out a wrinkled T-shirt and some sweatpants. “Here. Put these on.”
Danny frowned. “They don’t match.”
“It’s fine,” I said, tossing them to him. “Just hurry up.”
I ran to the kitchen to throw together breakfast. Lucy always had something ready—pancakes, eggs, toast—but I didn’t have time for that. I shoved two slices of bread into the toaster, grabbed a juice box, and turned around just as a loud snap came from behind me.
Smoke curled up from the toaster. I rushed over and yanked out the black, burnt, and rock-hard toast.
Danny wandered in, nose wrinkling. “Ew.”
“Just eat a banana,” I said, tossing one onto his plate.
“But I wanted pancakes.”
I groaned, rubbing my face. “Danny, we don’t have time for pancakes. Just eat what you can.”
After dropping him off at school, I stopped at a drive-through and grabbed a hot dog. As I drove home, I took a big bite—until something cold and sticky spread across my chest.
I looked down. Bright red ketchup covered my shirt.
By the time I got home, my frustration had only grown. The shirt had to be washed, and since Lucy wasn’t there to do it, I had to figure it out myself. How hard could it be?
I walked up to the washing machine, staring at the buttons and dials like they were written in another language. After a minute of fumbling, I huffed in defeat and threw the shirt on the floor.
Then I remembered my meeting tomorrow. Lucy always ironed my work shirts. How hard could that be? I plugged the iron in, spread my best shirt over the ironing board, and pressed down.
A sharp smell filled the air. I lifted the iron. A giant hole had burned through my shirt.
I groaned. Who even invented irons?
By lunchtime, I was starving. I grabbed a frozen pack of chicken, slapped it onto a pan, and turned the heat up.
Ten minutes later, smoke billowed from the stove. Coughing, I yanked the pan away. The smoke alarm screeched. I flailed at the detector with a towel until it finally silenced.
Defeated, I turned to the sink, ready to clean up, but then I noticed something. The dishwasher was full of dirty dishes, and the buttons on it were just as confusing as the washing machine.
I pressed one. Nothing.
Twisted a dial. Still nothing.
Dropping the dish in the sink, I let out a heavy sigh.
I was exhausted.
By the time I picked Danny up from school, I could barely function. When we stepped inside, he stopped short.
“Daddy… what happened?”
I let out a long sigh. “I don’t know, bud. I tried to do everything, but nothing went right.”
Instead of laughing, Danny nodded. “Okay. Let’s clean up.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
“Mommy and I do it together all the time,” he said matter-of-factly. “I can show you.”
He started the washing machine, loaded the dishwasher, and wiped the counters. At six years old, my son was more capable than I was.
“Why do you help so much?” I asked.
Danny grinned. “Because Mommy needs it.”
Those four words hit me hard.
That evening, I came home from work and found Lucy and Danny in the kitchen. She was chopping vegetables while Danny stirred something in a bowl.
Lucy glanced up, smiling. “Hey. How was your day?”
I stepped forward, rubbing the back of my neck. “Better than yesterday.”
She smirked. “I’ll bet.”
For a moment, we stood there. Then she held up a knife. “Want to help me make dinner?”
A week ago, I would have laughed. But now, I saw things clearly.
I stepped forward. “Yeah. I do.”
Lucy’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but then she handed me a cutting board. I picked up a tomato and started slicing, clumsy but determined. Danny giggled, and Lucy smiled.
We weren’t just making dinner. We were finally working together.
