I said.
“It hasn’t rained.”
“That’s why we have sprinklers.”
“They’re broken.”
She frowned.
“Then fix them.”
“I can.”
“Good.”
I spent two hours diagnosing the system.
One valve was cracked.
The controller had corrosion.
I replaced both.
Noah watched.
“Grandpa, how do you know this?”
“I’ve fixed things before.”
“Mom usually calls somebody.”
“I usually am somebody.”
He grinned.
That evening, Ethan came outside.
He saw the sprinkler running.
“Nice.”
“Thanks.”
“How much did the parts cost?”
“About sixty dollars.”
“Vanessa said you’d cover household maintenance if you caused anything.”
“I didn’t cause it.”
He looked awkward.
“I know.”
“Then why mention it?”
He shrugged.
“Just saying.”
I stared at my son.
He walked back inside.
I paid for the parts.
Not because I had to.
Because sixty dollars was cheaper than arguing.
That became a pattern too.
Then came the apple pie.
