When my husband’s family chose me as their Easter maid, they had no clue I had hidden something special among the chocolate bunnies. What happened next still makes me giggle.
Emma, 35, is a mid-sized company marketing director. Carter and I have had three amazing years together. Carter fulfills all my expectations. Friendliness, humor, and dishwasher loading are his strengths.
Our relationship is practically perfect, except for one glaring fault. His family.
Could you get me another mimosa while you’re awake, Emma? Last month, my mother-in-law Patricia’s voice reverberated over our rear patio after I had just taken two steps into the kitchen.
She had been sitting in her comfortable lounge chair for nearly an hour.
Over three years of marriage, I had perfected my grin, “Of course, Patricia.”
They told me I wasn’t Carter’s match from the start.
They think they’re always right and have never embraced me. They give barbed-wire compliments.
Sophia, the oldest at 41, said, “Oh, Emma, you’re so brave to wear something that tight” during our last family gathering, looking at my regular clothing.
Melissa, 39, often comments on my diet. “Good for you, not caring about calories,” she said as I took a slice of dessert.
Despite being younger than me, Hailey, 34, usually sounds like a judgmental aunt. Our family has strong traditions. Hope you can keep up.
This Easter, though? WOW, they outdid themselves.
“Since you and Carter don’t have kids yet,” Melissa said three weeks before Easter, as her three children crawled all over my newly cleaned furniture, “it would make sense for you to organize the Easter egg hunt.”
Don’t conceal a few plastic eggs. No.
I had to plan a whole event, with treasure hunt clues, costumes, and a bunny mascot I paid for.
“It would really show you care about our family,” Sophia said, sipping her cappuccino and adjusting her big sunglasses on my rear patio.
Carter grabbed my hand under the table. He said, “That sounds like a lot of work,” but his sisters stopped him.
Hailey responded, “It’s just what we do in this family,” even though I’d never seen her arrange anything.
Fine. I suppressed my protests. For now.
I was already planning how to make this Easter one they would never forget.
My phone got an SMS two days before Easter. Patricia launched a family discussion. Without Carter, obviously.
I’d love for you to make Easter supper since you’re helping! Carter deserves a good hostess. 😘”
As Sophia, Melissa, and Hailey provided their “suggestions,” my pulse rose with each notification on my phone.
She meant “cook for 25 people.” A full buffet comprised ham, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, deviled eggs, bread, two desserts, and “a lighter option for those of us watching our figure.”
No one brought a pie.
“They want you to do?” Carter asked when I showed him the texts. In anger, his cheeks flushed. “That’s ridiculous. Will speak to them.”
I said, “No,” laying my hand on his arm. “Don’t worry.”
“That’s too much work, Emma. Let me order catering.”
I smiled and kissed his cheeks. “I’ve got this, trust me.”
Patricia commented, “Emma, this ham is a little dry,” immediately after tasting it.
“The potatoes need more butter,” Melissa added.
Sophia said, “In our family, we usually serve the gravy in a proper boat, not a measuring cup,” even though I used my grandmother’s antique gravy boat.
Carter defended me, but I looked at him and shook my head. Not yet.
They ate. They ruined the kitchen. They let their kids run about, spilling chocolate.
Melissa’s youngest child knocked down a vase, but no one cleaned up. I just heard “Kids will be kids!”
After eating, they sat on the sofas with their wine cups, motionless.
Sophia glanced over her shoulder and added, “Emma, the kitchen isn’t going to clean itself.”
“Oh, honey,” Patricia said. You can now tidy up. Show me your wife potential.”
While their husbands watched basketball in the den, they grinned and lounged on the sofa like queens.
Carter rose. “I’ll assist Emma.”
I shouted, “No, sweetie,” to everyone. “You worked hard all week. Go chill with the guys.”
Happy looks from the sisters. They believed they won.
I grinned. I grinned happily. My hands clasped.
“Absolutely!” Chirped. “I’ll handle everything!”
As they discussed Sophia’s cruise, their smugness subsided. Hailey soiled my coffee table by putting her feet up.
“Kids!” Joyfully, I shouted. “Who’s ready for the special Easter Egg Hunt?”
Many excited kids fled from the home.
“But I thought we already did the egg hunt this morning,” Patricia replied.
“Oh,” I winked at the youngsters. It was an ordinary hunt. Time for the Golden Egg Challenge.”
Children screamed from joy.
“What’s Golden Egg Challenge?” Melissa’s ten-year-old son asked excitedly.
“Well,” I said, pulling a shiny golden plastic egg from my pocket, “while I was setting up the regular Easter Egg Hunt this morning, I hid something extra special.”
The kids surrounded me, amazed by the shining egg in my palm.
“Inside this golden egg is a note about a VERY SPECIAL PRIZE,” I said, dropping my voice. “Much better than candy.”
“Better than candy?” Sophia’s eight-year-old daughter gasped like I said the moon was cheese.
“Absolutely. An all-inclusive award!” Announced.
The kids were almost salivating. Patricia and her daughters watched from the sofa with mild curiosity, perhaps assuming I was talking about a toy or small gift card.
I replied, “The golden egg is hidden somewhere in the backyard.” “Whoever finds it wins the grand prize!” Ready?”
Children ran for the rear entrance, trampling each other to get out first.
Patricia called from the sofa, “That’s sweet of you, Emma.” “Keep them busy while we digest.”
Carter arched an eyebrow at me from across the room. Just winked.
15 minutes of desperate searching yielded a victorious shout from the garden’s far corner.
“I found it! Found the golden egg!
Sophia’s daughter Lily ran across the grass brandishing the golden egg like an Olympic torch.
Perfect. There was no way I could have planned it better.
Congratulations, Lily! As people gathered, I applauded. “Want to open it and read your prize?”
The eight-year-old swiftly opened the plastic egg to find a little wrapped paper. Her brow wrinkled as she read.
Would you want me to read it for everyone? I offered cheerfully.
She nodded and handed me the paper.
“Ahem,” I loudly exhaled. The Golden Egg winner gets the GRAND PRIZE: your family cleans up Easter! Congratulations!”
We had three glorious seconds of stillness in our yard.
An outcry ensued.
“What?” Sophia stammered and almost choked on wine.
“Not a prize!” Melissa griped.
Lily looked confused. “I must clean?”
“Not just you,” I said pleasantly. “The whole family helps! That’s thrilling! Doing dishes, cleaning the kitchen, and collecting candy wrappers…
Patricia began, “Emma,” sternly. This is a joke, right?
“Oh no, it’s the official Golden Egg prize,” I said. “The kids are so excited.”
That was when the most incredible thing happened. All the kids chanted, “CLEAN UP! CLEAN UP!”
Carter couldn’t stop laughing.
“This isn’t funny,” Hailey said.
Carter stepped alongside me and wrapped an arm around my waist, “Actually,” “it’s hilarious.”
“We can’t expect the kids to clean,” Sophia objected, red-faced.
“I’m just following the rules,” I replied politely. Family customs matter, right? You taught me!”
Patricia rose, plainly struggling to retake control. Emma, darling, this is inappropriate.”
“Is it?” I asked innocently. The worst thing is expecting one person to prepare and clean up for 25 people alone. What’s wrong with criticizing my cooking as you eat it?
The kids became louder as they chanted. Several had started collecting trash in the yard, taking the job seriously.
“Mom,” Lily pulled Sophia’s beautiful blouse. “We won! We must clean!”
They had no option due to their children’s excitement and the difficulty of the circumstance.
Sophia eventually murmured, “Fine.”
I smiled and gave her rubber gloves. The dish soap is beneath the sink.
I sipped a cold mimosa on the patio with my feet up for an hour while Carter’s mother and sisters cleaned dishes, countertops, and floors.
Carter joined us and clinked glasses. “You know you’re brilliant?”
“I learned from the best,” I said. “Your family always stresses tradition.”
Patricia caught my eye as she battled to remove dried gravy from my roasting pan. Her expression changed briefly. Something suspiciously like respect.
Next Easter? They may bring cleaning materials and potluck dishes.
