My Husband Refused to Help Get the Kids Ready for School, Taking a Bath for an Hour Instead – I Taught Him a Harsh Lesson
Vienna had reached her breaking point. For months, her husband Adam had indulged in his sacred hour-long baths every morning while she juggled the kids, the house, and everything in between. She had tried to be patient, but when he refused to help get the kids ready for school on an important day, she snapped.
“Sweetie, my bath is my sacred escape from the kids, and, let’s be honest, from you! You can handle things for an hour, can’t you?” he had said before disappearing into the bathroom with a smug grin.
Vienna was done. She had a job interview that morning, and Adam’s selfishness had cost her a chance at a new opportunity. As she scrambled to get the kids to school—hair frizzy, blouse stained with cereal, and heart heavy—she swore she would make him understand what it meant to be a partner.
That night, as she lay in bed, a plan started to form. She knew Adam’s routine all too well: candles, relaxing oils, and a soothing playlist. She would turn his cherished routine into a lesson in empathy.
The next morning, she went to work. She swapped his expensive bath oils with baby oil (it was a nightmare to wash off), replaced his relaxing playlist with the kids’ favorite song—I Like To Move It, and turned the hot water valve just enough to make the water lukewarm.
As Adam entered the bathroom, Vienna whispered under her breath, “Enjoy your hour, honey.”
The next few minutes were a symphony of chaos. Adam cursed as he slipped on the baby oil. The kids’ song blared through the speakers, and when he stepped into the lukewarm water, his yelp was pure gold.
Emerging from the bathroom, dripping and furious, Adam demanded an explanation. Vienna stood tall, smirking. “Just like you expect your relaxation time to be respected, I expect your support when I need it. Especially on important days like yesterday.”
He glared at her but said nothing. Vienna knew this wasn’t over. But it was a start.
In the coming days, she escalated the pranks. From glitter-filled bath bombs that left him shining like a disco ball to cold water and pirate battle soundtracks, Vienna’s subtle messages kept piling up. Adam was finally starting to realize the imbalance, but he still didn’t quite get it.
Then one morning, Vienna went all in. She staged a fake emergency to trick him into running out of the bathroom just before he could take his bath. While he was distracted, she installed a motion sensor that triggered a loud alarm every time he stepped into the tub.
When Adam returned and tried to settle into his bath, the air horn blast made him jump out, soaking wet and furious. “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THIS HOUSE??”
Vienna calmly replied, “Welcome to my world, Adam. If you can’t appreciate my need for help, I can’t appreciate your need for a peaceful bath.”
He stared at her, defeated. “I get it,” he said, his tone softer than it had ever been. “I’ll help. I’ll try harder.”
But Vienna wasn’t done yet. As a final act of mischief—and to make absolutely sure the lesson stuck—she swapped his shampoo with bright neon pink hair dye. The transformation was instant, and Adam’s shocked scream echoed through the house.
The kids laughed hysterically as Adam stood there with glowing pink hair, yelling, “VIENNA! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HAIR??”
Vienna, grinning from ear to ear, replied, “Now we’re even, Adam!”
It took days for the pink to fade, but Adam never returned to his hour-long baths. He started taking quicker showers and, most importantly, he spent more time with Vienna and the kids.
And that, Vienna thought with a smile, was how she won the Nobel Prize in Chore Distribution. A little glitter, a splash of cold water, and a neon pink surprise had finally taught Adam what partnership was all about.
