All the children started chanting, “CLEAN UP! CLEAN UP!”
Carter couldn’t stop giggling.
“This isn’t funny,” Hailey hissed.
“Actually,” Carter said, stepping beside me and wrapping an arm around my waist, “it’s hilarious.”
“We can’t expect the kids to clean,” Sophia protested, her face flushing red.
“I’m just following the rules,” I said sweetly. “Family traditions are important, right?
You taught me that!”
Patricia stood up, clearly trying to regain control of the situation. “Emma, dear, this is inappropriate.”
“Is it?” I asked innocently. “What’s more wrong than expecting one person to cook for and clean up after 25 people without assistance?
What’s more wrong than making disparaging remarks about my cooking while you enjoy the food I prepared?”
The children continued to chant, becoming louder by the second. Several of them had already begun gathering rubbish in the yard, taking the challenge seriously.
“Mom,” Lily tugged at Sophia’s designer blouse. “We won!
We have to clean up!”
Faced with their own children’s enthusiasm and the growing awkwardness of the situation, they had no choice.
“Fine,” Sophia finally muttered.
I handed her a pair of rubber gloves with a smile. “The dish soap is under the sink.”
For the next hour, I sat on the terrace with my feet up, sipping a wonderfully cold mimosa, and watched Carter’s mother and sisters clean dishes, wipe counters, and sweep floors.
Carter joined me and clinked his glass against mine. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”
“I learned from the best,” I answered.
“Your family always says how important it is to follow traditions.”
Patricia drew my attention as she struggled to clean dried gravy from my roasting pan. For a brief moment, her countenance revealed something new. Something that seemed suspiciously like respect.
Next Easter?
I have a feeling they will bring potluck dishes and cleaning supplies.
