A seven-year-old had noticed what her father hadn’t.
I hugged her.
“Oh, sweetheart. I have food at home.”
“Then why didn’t Daddy give you any?”
There it was.
The question nobody could answer.
Stephanie knelt beside us.
“Because we weren’t thoughtful, Zoe. We should have asked Grandma to stay.”
Zoe considered that.
“Can she stay next time?”
I kissed her forehead.
“I’d like that.”
But as I held her, another thought frightened me.
What was she learning?
That the person who loved everybody was the person nobody needed to consider?
That being kind meant accepting whatever people gave you?
I wouldn’t teach her that.
Not by example.
Not anymore.
After the children went outside with Peter, Stephanie sat beside me.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I know.”
“No. I mean for letting Joel decide everything. I knew you helped us constantly. I should have asked whether it was too much.”
