When my husband gave me $50 for Christmas dinner and told me not to “embarrass him,” I knew exactly what to do.
Mark had always treated holiday hosting like my responsibility. But this year, his casual disrespect went too far. Tossing a fifty at me like I was a short-order cook, he said, “Make it nice. My mom always did.”
I spared no expense—hiring professionals, ordering top-shelf everything, and transforming our home into a holiday masterpiece. When his family arrived, they were blown away.
Mark, grinning, said, “See? Fifty bucks goes far if you’re smart.”
That’s when I revealed the truth. “Actually, this cost $750. Your contribution paid for the butter.”
The table erupted. His mom scolded him. His dad chuckled. And as I handed Mark my spa reservation, I said, “Next year, maybe budget better.”
Watching him clean up alone? Best. Christmas. Ever.
