When my husband Ben complained about my home cooking and asked for “fancier meals” to impress his family, I decided to

give him exactly what he wanted ust not the way he expected. It all started when Ben volunteered me to watch his sister’s two

kids for two weeks without asking me. On top of that, his mom, Carol, moved in “to help,” which really meant lounging in the

recliner and offering unsolicited advice while I ran the entire household.

I was exhausted cooking, cleaning, parenting, and barely sleeping.

By day three, Ben had the nerve to critique my dinner. “Maybe you could spice things up with fancier meals,” he said, as if

spaghetti wasn’t good enough. That’s when I snapped but quietly, strategically. The next day, I took him grocery shopping and

filled the cart with gourmet ingredients: filet mignon, truffle oil, imported cheese, you name it. His eyes bugged out at the total.

“You can’t ask for steak on a ramen budget,” I reminded him.

That evening, I transformed our dining room into a five-star restaurant. I served tiny portions on our wedding china with

dramatic flair. One lonely scallop for an appetizer. A sliver of steak on mashed potatoes for the entrée. And for dessert? An

empty bowl of “deconstructed chocolate mousse.” Ben was speechless. Carol made a sandwich.

The kids raided the pantry. And I soaked in a bubble bath.

The next morning, Ben was up early cooking a full breakfast and packing lunches. “Let’s just stick to your tacos tonight,” he

mumbled. Lesson learned. Respect isn’t given it’s earned. And sometimes,

you have to serve it with candlelight and a single parsley leaf.