Not Meeting Needs
When I was a boy, my mom would often make me come with her when she would deliver food to older relatives. As a child the last thing I wanted to do was waste my time delivering food, especially when the houses and people often smelled funny. Of course the people were always appreciative, and I remember vaguely one great aunt of mine saying that my mom doing this was close to heaven. I know the aunt was grateful for the food, and it certainly did not hurt that my mom was an excellent cook.
My dad was always supportive, except perhaps for an occasional grimace. If my mom was not able to make dinner because time got away from her, my dad without complaint either took all five of us out to dinner or we got carry out.