Alex recently came to Marty and asked if she was ok. She was and said as much. He asked again, seemingly not believing her first answer. She repeated she was fine and asked why he was asking. He said that he noticed that she had not made dinner on two of the three nights this week. Marty took a moment to recall the week, and yes, because of some atypical evening events, we did not have our usual family dinners as planned. Marty prepared herself for what seemed about to happen–Alex complaining that after his long day, it would be nice to know if dinner wasn't going to happen so he could, you know, make other arrangements.

Given Marty's longer-than-Alex days, the thought of this anticipated criticism quickened her pulse. She felt her body prepare to react if this was where things were headed. But it was not. What her 18-year-old college freshman said was that if making dinners were a problem for her, if she told him what was planned, he could help get things ready or even make the full meal. Marty's mounting counter-defenses were told to stand down, and this exchange ended not with a two-barrel dress-down but a warm embrace. And in the days and weeks after this comment, Alex did help with more than one family dinner.

And at one of those Alex-prepared dinners, Anthony jokingly shared a story about how he took some heat at wrestling practice when he noticed a teammate was having a rough day and asked if there was anything he could do to "emotionally support" him. Moments later, Anthony learned this is not an offer commonly made amongst high school wrestlers.

And if we were to trace the origins of that comment, it would lead directly to his sister, who, anytime she sees someone struggling in a large or small way, the first thing out of her mouth is, "is there anything I can do to support you." Anthony has probably heard his sister say that so many times it is as default a response for him as is saying you are welcome to someone who has just said thank you.

For as caring and warm as our kids are today, whenever Marty or I bring up how great it will be to have them around when we are old and incapacitated, their do-good spirit takes a smoke-break. Seeing this Marty will joke with them how she can't wait until she can sit on the toilet, empty her bowels and yell as loud as she can, "I'm done" to let her children know she is ready to be wiped. This was the call we, mostly Marty, answered after our kids were old enough to go on their own but too young to properly clean up afterwards. Marty is convinced they intentionally waited until the middle of dinner to tend to this need. When they say it's not fair and they shouldn't have to do that for us, Marty says she promises not to do it during dinner, all of the time at least. Given their pre-traumatized faces, I want to come to their defense, but if they don't do it, it means I will have to, and well, when it comes to wiping adult asses that aren't your own, we are squarely situated in every man for themselves land.