Chloe appeared beside me carrying a clean towel.

“Can I help?” she asked.

I looked at her for a moment, remembering the wooden stool at Gwen’s sink.

“You can,” I said, “but only if you want to.

And there’s a difference between helping together and being made to do everyone else’s work.” Chloe nodded.

“Then I’ll dry three plates,” she declared, “because I’m six and three is a nice number.” She dried two and got distracted by a board game.

Nobody minded.