My husband thought $50 was enough for a “lavish” Christmas dinner for his entire family. I decided to teach him a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
Mark had a habit of treating holiday hosting like my personal obligation while he kicked back and did nothing. But this year, he crossed a line. As we discussed the menu, he barely looked up from his phone before tossing a crumpled fifty at me. “Make something nice,” he said. “Don’t embarrass me.”
I could’ve argued. I could’ve pointed out that $50 wouldn’t even cover the turkey. But instead, I smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll make it work.”
Behind the scenes, I had other plans. Using money from my own savings, I hired a caterer, ordered gourmet dishes, and decked out our home in elegant holiday decor. When his family arrived, their jaws dropped at the spread—roasted duck, artisan breads, a three-tier cake dusted in edible gold.
Mark, clueless as ever, bragged about how far his fifty bucks had gone. That’s when I stood up and announced the truth to the entire table.
The room went silent. His mother looked horrified. His brothers stifled laughter. And as I sipped my wine, I handed Mark one final surprise—a receipt for the spa weekend I’d booked for myself.
“Merry Christmas to me,” I said.
