I've pretended to be helpless, while the husband me not declassified...

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I was brought up without a father, so my mom and I all had to do it ourselves. Then I grew up and got married. Slowly accustomed to a beloved family home — all the time asking him to help me with anything, well, for example, to open a jar or chicken to butcher. Of course, to myself, blamed on what light is, as my husband is not the handy. But we have to endure, so that he felt important and necessary.

Yesterday he gave me a declassified! Came early, quietly opened the door, looked into the kitchen, and I was there with a butcher knife the chicken first in one fell swoop cut, and then another, and a tin can opened. The husband silently watched me, and then gave:

— I bet you're still pies to cook...

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