Division of labour

This night, Menaka's little girl accompanied her while she carried dinner to the local mess. To keep her mind occupied, Menaka asked her to recite the multiplication tables they both practised. As a single parent, she couldn't afford the tuition to better schools, so they spent time on weekends going over basic arithmetic. Whatever money was left off her daily catering, she spent on buying school supplies.

"Twelve twelve's aaare one forty fooour!", the little girl exclaimed, triumphant.

She was getting faster with the tables, and Menaka needed a rest from carrying the two stacks of disposable carriers. They were only halfway there. 

"If you continue at this rate, the day you start teaching your poor old mother isn't far", she rejoiced as a steady stream of sweat trickled down her temples. 

"Since I am old enough to recite to twelve, will you let me carry the dabbas?", the little girl asked.

"Ofcourse, my Hanuman! On our way back. Okay?", she said.

"Okay!", the little one skipped along.