There was sauce on the chairs, sauce on the floor, sauce on my sleeve, and one noodle stuck to the refrigerator.

I had bought enough pasta for twelve people because I didn’t know how much five children might eat.

When we finished, Lucas began stacking plates before I asked.

‘You don’t have to,’ I told him.

‘But who does it?’

‘I do.

Or we do it together when you feel like it.

Cleaning dishes isn’t your job just because you’re oldest.’