The title “Assistant Warehouse Manager” went to my husband’s head faster than I could say “divorce papers.” Suddenly, our home had to accommodate his every whim – absolute silence, gourmet meals on demand, even our toddler’s footsteps were deemed too disruptive after his shifts.
After weeks of playing servant, I reached my limit during his 2 AM ice cream demand. That’s when I hatched my plan. I’d give him the celebration he thought he deserved – and the reality check he actually needed.
The dinner was perfect. His favorite meal, his closest family, all the trappings of a proud moment. Then came my toast – a carefully crafted list of every entitled behavior since his promotion. Watching his face fall as his mother’s disapproval became visible was almost therapeutic.
His midnight confession and next morning’s burnt omelet proved the message got through. Sometimes love requires tough lessons – and sometimes those lessons are best delivered in front of an audience who’ll hold him accountable.
