It’s a fair question, “Why do many if not most moms change their surname to their new husband’s”? my youngest daughter, aged 9, asked. As the youngest of four, I’d heard this before and had the answer ready.
“When you hear a noise at night, who gets up and checks?” I asked.
“You do” she replied without hesitation, somewhat confused that this was even a question.
“And if there’s a spider in the room, who kills it”, My 14 years old added.
The realization of privilege and responsibility hit her as she responded, “ohhh”.
Daya sat quietly by with one raised eyebrow and a bit of a smirk.
I’ve been doing all the heavy lifting and killing more spiders than I thought existed since then. The usual scenario unfolds as,
Daya: George Spider!
George: “So kill it”.
Daya: I’m a Constance
George: “Crap”as I get a magazine to kill the insect.
Daya: “The garabage has to go out and it’s raining”!
you get the idea.
Post script:
Lats night I was in bed, baely clothed and nearly asleep when my youngest, now 10, shouted spider. Daya shouted “George”. George moaned, “I’m freakin in bed. Kill it yourself.
Moments later, I heard a few whacks from a flyswatter. Daya climbed into bed a minute after that declaring she and the kids were all changing their names to Patel, her surname.
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