{"id":1198,"date":"2024-11-26T04:20:54","date_gmt":"2024-11-26T04:20:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/?p=1198"},"modified":"2024-11-26T04:20:56","modified_gmt":"2024-11-26T04:20:56","slug":"my-fiances-7-year-old-daughter-cooks-breakfast-does-all-the-chores-every-day-i-was-taken-aback-when-i-found-out-why","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/archives\/1198","title":{"rendered":"My Fiance\u2019s 7-Year-Old Daughter Cooks Breakfast & Does All the Chores Every Day \u2014 I Was Taken Aback When I Found Out Why"},"content":{"rendered":"
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At first, I found it endearing that my future stepdaughter woke up before dawn to cook elaborate breakfasts and clean the house. But everything changed when I discovered the heartbreaking reason behind this seven-year-old\u2019s obsession with being the perfect homemaker.\n
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I noticed it gradually at first. My future stepdaughter, Amila, would pad down the stairs before dawn, her little feet making soft thuds against the carpet.\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A girl walking barefoot on a carpet\n\n\n

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She was only seven, but there she was every morning, determinedly mixing pancake batter or scrambling eggs.\n\n

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I thought it was sweet at first. Most kids her age were still deep in dreams about unicorns or whatever second graders dreamed about these days while she was a poster child for a good kid.\n\n

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But when I realized this was just her routine, I started to worry.\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A concerned woman\n\n\n

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The first time I caught her carefully measuring coffee grounds into the filter, my heart nearly stopped.\n\n

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Four-foot-nothing in her rainbow pajamas, dark hair neatly tied into pigtails, handling hot kitchen appliances before sunrise. It wasn\u2019t right.\n\n

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\u201cYou\u2019re up early again, sweetheart,\u201d I said, watching her fill cups with hot coffee.\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A girl making coffee\n\n\n

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The kitchen counter gleamed, and the smell of fresh coffee filled the air. \u201cDid you clean in here?\u201d\n\n

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She beamed at me, her gap-toothed smile so eager it made my heart ache.\n\n

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\u201cI wanted everything to be nice when you and Daddy woke up. Do you like the coffee? I figured out how to use the machine!\u201d\n\n

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The pride in her voice struck me as odd.\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A proud girl\n\n\n

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Although most kids enjoy learning how to do \u201cadult\u201d tasks, something in her tone came off as being a little too eager to please.\n\n

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I glanced around the kitchen. Everything was spotless, and Amila had breakfast laid out like a magazine spread.\n\n

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How long had she been up? How many mornings had she spent perfecting this routine while we slept?\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A concerned woman in a kitchen\n\n\n

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\u201cThat\u2019s very thoughtful of you, but you really don\u2019t have to do all this,\u201d I said, helping her down from the stool. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you sleep in tomorrow? I can make breakfast.\u201d\n\n

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She shook her head vigorously, dark pigtails bouncing. \u201cI like doing it. Really!\u201d\n\n

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The desperation in her voice set off alarm bells in my head. No child should sound that anxious about skipping chores.\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A frowning woman\n\n\n

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Ryan wandered in then, stretching and yawning. \u201cSomething smells amazing!\u201d He ruffled Amila\u2019s hair as he passed, grabbing a mug of coffee. \u201cThanks, princess. You\u2019re getting to be quite the little homemaker.\u201d\n\n

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I shot him a look, but he was too busy scanning his phone to notice. The word \u201chomemaker\u201d sat heavy in my chest, like something gone slightly rotten.\n\n

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I watched Amila\u2019s face light up at his praise, and my unease grew stronger.\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A proud girl\n\n\n

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This became our routine \u2014 Amila playing house while we slept, me watching with growing concern, and Ryan accepting it all as if it were the most natural thing in the world.\n\n

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But there was nothing natural about a child so driven to complete chores, especially ones they\u2019d taken on all by themself. There was nothing cute about the dark circles forming under her eyes, or the way she\u2019d flinch when she dropped something, as if expecting punishment for imperfection.\n\n

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One morning, as we cleaned up after breakfast (I insisted on helping, despite her protests), I decided to dig deeper.\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A woman cleaning a kitchen\n\n\n

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The question had been eating at me for weeks, and I couldn\u2019t ignore it anymore.\n\n

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\u201cSweetheart,\u201d I said, kneeling beside her as she wiped the table, \u201cyou don\u2019t have to wake up so early to do all this. You\u2019re just a kid! We should be taking care of you, not the other way around.\u201d\n\n

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She kept scrubbing at an invisible spot, her small shoulders tense. \u201cI just want to make sure everything\u2019s perfect.\u201d\n\n

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Something in her voice made me pause.\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A girl cleaning a kitchen\n\n\n

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I gently took the cloth from her hands, noting how her fingers trembled slightly. \u201cAmila, honey, tell me the truth. Why are you working so hard? Are you trying to impress us?\u201d\n\n

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She wouldn\u2019t meet my eyes, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words.\n\n

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Finally, she whispered, \u201cI heard Daddy talking to Uncle Jack about my mom. He said that if a woman doesn\u2019t wake up early, cook, and do all the chores, no one will ever love or marry her.\u201d\n\n

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An anxious girl\n\n\n

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Her lower lip trembled. \u201cI\u2019m afraid\u2026 if I don\u2019t do those things, Daddy won\u2019t love me anymore.\u201d\n\n

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The words hit me like a physical blow. I stared at this precious child, watching her shoulder the weight of such toxic expectations, and felt something inside me snap.\n\n

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Years of progress in women\u2019s rights, and here was my supposedly progressive fianc\u00e9, casually perpetuating the same medieval garbage that had held women back for generations.\n\n

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\u201cThis is\u00a0not\u00a0happening,\u201d I muttered. \u201cNot in my house.\u201d\n\n

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A determined woman\n\n\n

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Operation Wake-Up Call began the next morning. As Ryan finished his breakfast (made by his seven-year-old daughter, of course) I cheerfully wheeled the lawn mower out of the garage.\n\n

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\u201cCould you mow the lawn today?\u201d I asked as I entered the kitchen. \u201cOh, and don\u2019t forget to edge the corners.\u201d\n\n

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He shrugged, agreeable enough. \u201cSure, no problem.\u201d\n\n

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The next day, I piled fresh laundry on the table.\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A woman placing laundry on a table\n\n\n

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The clean scent of fabric softener filled the air. \u201cHey, can you fold these neatly? And while you\u2019re at it, how about washing the windows?\u201d\n\n

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\u201cAlright\u2026\u201d He gave me a curious look. \u201cAnything else?\u201d\n\n

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By day three, when I asked him to clean out the gutters and reorganize the garage, suspicion had clearly set in. I could see it in how his brow furrowed, and the slight hesitation before each task.\n\n

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A frowning man\n\n\n

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\u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d he asked, frowning. \u201cYou\u2019ve got me doing more chores than usual.\u201d\n\n

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I smiled sweetly, channeling all my frustration into false brightness. \u201cOh, nothing. I\u2019m just making sure you stay useful to me. After all, if you\u2019re not pulling your weight, I don\u2019t see why I\u2019d marry you.\u201d\n\n

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The words landed exactly as intended. Ryan stared at me, mouth agape. \u201cWhat? What are you even talking about?\u201d\n\n

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A shocked man\n\n\n

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I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. The moment felt pivotal \u2014 like everything in our relationship hinged on what came next.\n\n

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\u201cRyan, your daughter wakes up every morning to cook breakfast and clean the house. She\u2019s seven. SEVEN. Do you know why?\u201d\n\n

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He shook his head and shrugged.\n\n

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\u201cBecause she heard you telling Jack that her mom wasn\u2019t worth loving unless she woke up early to cook and do chores,\u201d I replied.\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A woman speaking to a man\n\n\n

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\u201cThat\u2019s what she believes now: that your love for her depends on how much she does for you.\u201d\n\n

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\u201cI didn\u2019t\u2026 I mean, I didn\u2019t mean it like that\u2014\u201d he stammered, but I cut him off.\n\n

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\u201cIntent doesn\u2019t matter. Do you have any idea what kind of pressure that puts on her? She\u2019s a child, Ryan, not a maid or a partner. And in case you hadn\u2019t noticed, it\u2019s not 1950 anymore. She deserves to know your love is unconditional, and you owe her an apology.\u201d\n\n

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The silence that followed was deafening.\n\n

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A thoughtful man\n\n\n

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I watched the realization wash over his face, followed by shame, and then determination. It was like watching ice melt.\n\n

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That evening, I lingered in the hallway as Ryan knocked on Amila\u2019s door. My heart hammered against my ribs as I listened, hoping I hadn\u2019t pushed too hard, praying this would help rather than hurt.\n\n

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\u201cAmila, sweetheart, I need to talk to you,\u201d he said softly.\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A man speaking to his daughter\n\n\n

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\u201cYou overheard me say something about your mom that I never should have, and it made you think you have to work so hard to make me love you. But that\u2019s not true. I love you because you\u2019re my daughter, not because of what you do.\u201d\n\n

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\u201cReally?\u201d Her voice was small, hopeful. \u201cEven if I don\u2019t make breakfast?\u201d\n\n

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\u201cEven if you never make breakfast again.\u201d Ryan\u2019s voice cracked. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to prove anything to me or anyone else to be loved. You\u2019re perfect just the way you are.\u201d\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A man hugging his daughter\n\n\n

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I pressed a hand to my mouth, holding back tears as they hugged, Amila\u2019s small frame disappearing in her father\u2019s embrace. The sound of their quiet sniffles mingled with the hum of the house settling around us.\n\n

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The weeks that followed brought subtle but significant changes. Ryan started taking on more household responsibilities without being asked. More importantly, he became mindful of his words, careful not to perpetuate the harmful ideas he\u2019d unknowingly planted in Amila\u2019s mind.\n\n

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Sometimes I\u2019d catch him watching her play, a mix of guilt and love on his face, as if he was seeing her for the first time.\n\n

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\"A\n\n

A girl playing while her father watches\n\n\n

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Love wasn\u2019t just about warm, fuzzy feelings or perfect moments, I realized. Sometimes it was about having difficult conversations and holding each other accountable.\n\n

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It was about breaking cycles and building something better from the pieces.\n\n

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As we sat down to eat breakfast together, no one having sacrificed their sleep or childhood to earn their place at the table, I looked at my little family with quiet satisfaction.\n\n

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A man and his daughter eating dinner\n\n\n

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Medieval nonsense? Not in my house.\n\n

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This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.\n\n

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The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided \u201cas is,\u201d and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

At first, I found it endearing that my future stepdaughter woke up before dawn to cook elaborate breakfasts and clean the house. But everything changed when I discovered the heartbreaking reason behind this seven-year-old\u2019s obsession with being the perfect homemaker. I noticed it gradually at first. My future stepdaughter, Amila, would pad down the stairs […]\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":1199,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1198","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1198","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1198"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1198\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1200,"href":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1198\/revisions\/1200"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1199"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1198"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1198"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/momentsunfolded.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1198"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}