“Jason,” I called from the doorway, “can you shovel and put down salt before we go to bed?”

I wasn’t being dramatic.

We had a short set of steps leading down from our front door.

One bad slip would be enough.

Jason didn’t look up from his phone.

“I’ll do it later,” he said.

I waited a beat.

“You said that an hour ago.”

He sighed like I had asked him to build a house from scratch.

“You’re overreacting,” he said. “It’s a few steps. Stop nagging.”