My grandmother’s dinner

I’m not sure if this belongs here. Let me know if it doesn’t. I think it’s sweet, but there’s a bit of an edge to it.This is a story my Grandma told me about when she and my would-be father started getting to know each other.Bear in mind, my parents married in their very early 20s and very quickly, so my Dad maybe had some naïvetés about marriage. Also, my grandparents live and work on a farm.Onto the story: my Dad had noticed that my Grandma made my Pap a full-course meal every day he came home. It didn’t matter if it was a holiday or not, or if they had leftovers. She made him a new full meal every day.He asked what was the secret to knowing how he could get my Mom to cook for him every day like that (I know my Dad sounds like a bit of a pig here, but I think it was more being young and only knowing about life what he saw on TV, since his parents weren’t very involved).My Grandma sat my Dad down and said all the things my Pap did each day on the farm: Feeding animals, fixing fences, plowing fields, chopping wood. All so he, my Grandma, and their kids could live comfortably. And likewise, she worked hard at maintaining their house: cleaning, yard work, helping kids with homework, and of course, preparing dinner.Now, some days it was very hot and dry, or very cold and snowy. Days when it would take a lot of extra effort to work outside. But my Pap never complained, not made my Grandma feel like she owed him for his efforts. He just put in the extra effort and worked. So she thought it was only fair to put some extra effort back into him. So she made him a full meal from scratch every day.Now here’s what could arguably be called an ‘edge’. My Grandma said to my Dad that she made my Pap a meal because he’d make the extra effort on hard days without complaint. They both did something to help each other, so they both knew the other appreciated it.“He also knows,” my Grandma said “that if he ever started thinking those meals were just my wifely duties owed to him, and started acting ungrateful, he would wear that meal.”I don’t know if she meant it, but I guess my Dad did. Because after that story from my Grandma, I started noticing that on the nights my Mom cooked dinner, my Dad made a point of thanking her (and made us get in the habit too), and she to him when he cooked. Maybe it’s a coincidence. But that’s always struck me as kinda funny.Again, maybe this doesn’t belong here. It sounds kind of mean-spirited. But I always enjoyed the fact that my Grandparents, both raised in very traditional homes, had a surprisingly non-sexist view of their contributions. Sure, they fell into traditional roles, but they didn’t think one role was weaker or lesser than the other, or just an expectation. They saw it as two partners working to make each other feel loved, valued, and comfortable. via /r/StraightsBeingOK https://ift.tt/35mURdb