Family Day was supposed to be about joy, not drama—but leave it to my husband to turn it into a reality show. While cleaning, I stumbled upon his gift list. For his parents? $1,500 grill. For his brother? $700 fishing gear. For me? Scribbled “Smth from Target – $55.” My heart sank faster than Aunt Mabel’s fruitcake.

I kept my cool and wrapped my gifts with extra glitter. But I also wrapped up a lesson. When his turn came, he opened my present expecting the fancy watch I’d been saving for. Instead, he found a mirror and a note: “This reflects the effort you put into valuing me. May it remind you what really matters.” The silence was priceless.

Then, to highlight the contrast, I gifted my parents the car I’d secretly saved for. The cheers from my side of the family were deafening, while my husband sat red-faced, trying to defend himself with excuses as flimsy as tissue paper. Even his mom gave him the “I raised you better” look.

Later that night, he admitted, “I really messed up.” And though I nearly hit the divorce button, the next morning I caught him googling “thoughtful gift ideas.” It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Maybe next Family Day, I’ll get more than a bargain-bin surprise. Until then, I’ll keep my receipts—and my sarcasm—close.