I was down with the flu—102°F fever, chills, body aches, coughing nonstop—and trying to care for our 6-month-old on zero energy. My husband Drew? Completely useless.  The night I begged him to hold the baby so I could lie down, he looked at me and said, “I can’t. Your cough is keeping me up. I NEED SLEEP. I think I’m going to go stay at my mom’s for a few nights.” When I texted him, shocked, he replied: “You’re the mom. You know how to handle this stuff. Your cough is unbearable anyway.” I survived the weekend. Barely. But while I was burning up in bed, I started planning. If he thought being sick and abandoned was no big deal… I was going to show him what it really felt like.

We ate, we talked, and just when he looked like he was settling back into his comfortable life, I set my plan in motion. As soon as we finished eating, I faked a yawn and stretched. “Ugh, I’m so exhausted. Taking care of everything alone really drained me. You don’t mind watching the baby tonight, do you?” Drew’s face froze mid-smile. “Wait, tonight?” “Yes,” I said sweetly. “I need a full night’s sleep. You understand, right? I mean, YOU left because MY coughing kept you up. And since I had to manage while sick, I figured you’d be happy to take over now.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed. “Fine. One night.” I smirked. Oh, you poor, naive man. At exactly 2 AM, I woke him up. “Drew, the baby’s crying.” He groaned. “Can’t you—”