Tucker glared indignantly at the bulging trash bag next to the back door. (He’ll make an excellent indignant teenager, I foresee.)
“That trash is always there, and I always have to take it out, and it’s always so dirty.”
“And I’m so thankful for you, Tucker, because that’s something Daddy used to do for me. And I’m glad you don’t mind.”
His countenance softened, from his shoulders to his voice. He heaved the bag over his shoulder and opened the door to the garage.
“I’ll do this for you everyday if you want, Mommy.”