“Hey Lucy, where’s Mama?” Richard asked when he got home from work.

“Don’t bug Mama,” the little girl told her father as he hung up his coat. “She gots a dandy lion, and it’s makin’ her crabby.”

A dandy lion? He frowned. Then it hit him what she meant. Dandelions littered their front lawn, and his wife, Maggie, was probably irritated that he hadn’t put down the weed killer as he’d promised over a week ago.

“Did you pick some little yellow flowers from the lawn for Mama?”

Lucy scrunched up her face in confusion. “No, why? Was I ‘posed to?”

“No, I just wondered where Mama’s dandelion came from.”

“Mama’s editor gave her a dandy lion and a whiter box, so she got dressed.”

Puzzled by the three-year-old’s comments, Richard wondered if he needed to start paying better attention to his wife.

Taking Lucy’s advice, Richard didn’t bother Maggie in her home office. Instead, he went to their bedroom, put on some grubby clothes, and went outside to mow the lawn. He couldn’t help that these little yellow varmints had shown up in the first place, but he could chop their little heads off with the lawnmower.

When that was finished, he realized he’d been putting off more than mowing. The hedges needed trimming, and the grass needed edging. He also made sure to use the weed whacker and trim around the trees.

He grabbed the spreader and filled it with Scott’s Weed Control, distributing it over the lawn.

Feeling pleased with himself, he put all the equipment away and went back inside to wash up.

“What the heck, Richard?” Maggie bellowed. “I’m trying to work in here, and you’re out there making all that noise.”

Oblivious to her chagrin, Richard grinned. “I took care of the lawn, honey. Lucy said the dandelions made you cranky.”

“What? Never mind,” she said, shaking her head in confusion. “I left you a detailed note about what needed to get done. You’ve been home for an hour and haven’t even started the tasks I asked you to do. There’s no supper in the oven, Lucy is covered in magic marker, and the cat keeps screaming at me to be fed. Instead, you’re out there fartin’ around with the lawn and making a huge racket. Honestly, Richard, I need you to work with me here. I must finish this article today, or I’ll be fired, and we can’t afford to keep this house on only one salary.”

Richard was stunned! Instead of being grateful that he’d spent an hour working his butt off outside, she was ticked at him for not doing a bunch of stuff that was typically her job. And, to top it off, there was apparently no dinner!

When he stood there, mouth agape, saying nothing. Maggie shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll take care of it.”

In a flash, Richard watched his wife start a bath for Lucy, call Uber Eats to order supper, and pour some kibble into the cat’s dish.

“You,” she said, pointing an angry finger at him, “watch Lucy in the bath. I’ve already paid for the dinner and added a tip, so don’t give the guy more when the food arrives.”

He nodded, annoyed at being treated like a naughty child but, nonetheless, feeling a bit guilty about how much Maggie was dealing with since she’d gone back to work. It couldn’t be easy to work from home with all the distractions.

She continued, “I’m sorry I barked at you, but it’s been a rough day. Lucy has been extra needy, I’ve got a nagging headache, and I’m seriously doubting my ability to put anything down on paper that doesn’t sound like complete drivel. I don’t know what made me think I could be a feature writer for the Hometown Press. I need to write this article and make my deadline, but I’ve been dealing with writer’s block all day, and I’m stressed.”

Suddenly, it dawned on Richard that he’d completely misunderstood Lucy’s babbling. Maggie got stressed, not dressed!

“Maggie,” he said softly. “You’re a fantastic writer. But I haven’t been a very supportive husband. I’ve got Lucy for the rest of the evening. I’ll bring your dinner to you when it arrives, and we’ll keep the noise down.”

Running a hand through her hair and sighing heavily, she tried to be gracious. “Thanks; all of that is greatly appreciated, but I still don’t have a clue what to write about.”

“I have an idea. What about writing an article about life with a three-year-old and a husband who completely misunderstood what his wife needed?”

Maggie shrugged. “I’m not sure how interesting that will be.”

“I think readers might get a kick out of me thinking that you were upset about the dandelions because I’d neglected to mow the lawn and that your editor made you get dressed and gave you a whiter box that you needed to get rid of.”

“Richard, what on Earth are you talking about?”

Peeking in at the tub, he found Lucy still playing with the bath toys. So, he took Maggie into his arms and held her tightly. He was pleased when he could feel her body relax.

“I thought you were upset about the dandelions, but it was really your deadline. And the whiter box was writer’s block. Instead of reading your note, I figured I’d be the hero if I finally cut the damn lawn.

“If I’d paid better attention to you and not relied on our toddler to tell me what you needed, I could have prevented some of the frustration in your day. I’m sorry, baby. I’ll do better, I promise.”

Grinning, Maggie gave Richard a quick kiss, returned to the computer, and cranked out an article called “The Dandy Lion and the Whiter Box,” a feature about the trials and tribulations of working moms.

Submitting it with five minutes to spare, she smiled. “I made the dandy lion!”