My husband, Adam, has always taken hour-long baths every morning, calling it his “sacred escape.” But when I had an important job interview and begged him to help get the kids ready, he looked me in the eye and said, “Sweetie, that’s your job. I need my escape from the kids—and from you.” Then he shut the door.

I rushed around alone, got the kids to school, and missed my interview. That night, I decided things had to change. The next morning, I swapped his bath oils for baby oil, changed his playlist to “I Like to Move It” on repeat, and turned the water lukewarm. His angry yelps were music to my ears. But when nothing really changed, I got creative: glitter bath bombs, cold water with toy ducks, and even a motion sensor alarm that blared whenever he stepped in the tub.

Finally, I went big. While Adam soaked one evening, I replaced his shampoo with neon pink dye. Minutes later, his scream shook the house as he stared at his glowing pink hair. The kids and I laughed until we cried, and for once, Adam was speechless.

That was the turning point. He cut his baths in half, started helping with the kids, and learned that partnership wasn’t optional. And me? Let’s just say I earned the unofficial Nobel Prize in Chore Distribution.