Every Christmas, my husband Greg insists we host dinner for his family, but this year, he went too far. When he tossed a crumpled $50 bill on the counter and smugly told me to “make a lavish Christmas dinner,” I knew I had two choices: give in or turn the tables.
Greg had a habit of comparing me to his perfect mother, Linda, and this year, he gave me a paltry budget expecting a miracle. Instead of stressing, I decided to use my personal savings and secretly hired a catering team, planning the most extravagant Christmas dinner his family had ever seen.
On Christmas Day, the house was transformed. The table gleamed, a delicious feast filled the kitchen, and Greg was completely unaware. As his family arrived and showered me with compliments, Greg basked in the praise, oblivious to my real plan.
When dessert was served, I raised a glass. “A special thank you to Greg,” I said, “for his generous $50 contribution to this meal.” The room fell silent. Greg’s face turned red as I revealed that the dinner cost $750, not $50, and I had used my savings to cover it.
To add to his embarrassment, I handed him an envelope with a receipt for a spa retreat I’d booked for myself. “This is my reward for making this dinner work on your budget,” I said. Greg sulked while I enjoyed the evening, knowing he’d learned a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
