I spent a year saving for my dream designer bag—a Louis Vuitton purse. I skipped takeout, took freelance jobs, sold items online, and watched every penny. That bag wasn’t just fabric and leather; it was proof of how far I’d come. When I finally bought it, I cried in the parking lot. It was my trophy.

Then, during a Sunday lunch, Jake gave it to his mom—without asking. “She loved it, babe,” he said like it was no big deal. I was stunned. “You know how much it meant to me,” I whispered. He shrugged, “You hardly use it. You can buy another.” I couldn’t believe it. That purse wasn’t replaceable—it was earned.

This wasn’t the first time. Years ago, he gave away my vintage casserole dish after a neighbor complimented it. I asked him never to give away my things again. But clearly, he hadn’t learned.

So I taught him a lesson. Our plumber, Travis, once mentioned he’d love to golf. I casually offered Jake’s prized $3,000 golf clubs. When Jake found out, he exploded. “They’re irreplaceable!” he yelled. I looked him straight in the eye. “Exactly.”

He was speechless. Days later, he admitted he finally understood. “It wasn’t just about the purse,” I told him. “It was about feeling disrespected.”

Jake promised to change. And when his mom texted to thank me again, I replied, “Next time, I’ll bring a real gift. Wrapped. With a receipt.” Sometimes, people need to feel the loss to truly understand the value.