So, now everything runs smoothly. No problems. No surprises. I love it. Dad is always saying that they’d never survive without me. This makes me feel good. It’s also true.
Edward leans over and starts taking things out of a shopping bag. He holds up a jar of peanut butter. “Third cupboard, right?”
“Second cupboard, lower shelf,” I say correcting him. The lower-shelf part is important.
Although my organizing ability is enormous, I am quite small. Any food that I might need to get by myself has to go on a lower shelf, and peanut butter is definitely something I need. “But do the frozen food first.”
I put the spaghetti in the middle drawer, where it belongs. Although I like putting groceries away, it’s not as much fun as usual. Something’s bugging me. It takes a minute for me to figure out what it is.
“Hey, Edward. Why do you think Dad’s getting his hair cut so late?”
Edward takes out a handful of crackers and starts eating them as he puts the box away. “I dunno, T.,” he says. “Who cares when he gets his hair cut?”
I care, because I know for a fact that Dad usually gets his hair cut every six weeks on a Saturday afternoon while I’m at ballet.
