Some moments in marriage make you question everything — especially when your husband shows you just how inflated his ego can be. For me, that moment arrived at the airport: two kids clinging to my arms, travel bags hanging off my shoulders, when Clark — my ever-so-“responsible” husband — casually announced that he and his mother would be sitting in first class while I managed our toddlers in economy.
I actually laughed at first. I thought he was joking. He wasn’t. There he stood, boarding pass in hand, completely calm, while his mother smiled beside him like royalty. And there I was, juggling snacks, diapers, and disbelief. I’d spent weeks planning this entire trip, but apparently, I was just part of the budget section of our marriage.
I watched them stroll off toward luxury while I wrangled the kids through boarding. My frustration burned — then slowly turned into inspiration. During security, I’d seen Clark fumbling with his wallet. When he handed it to me “for safekeeping,” I slipped it neatly into my purse and said nothing. If he wanted to play first-class king, he could do it without a royal treasury.
Two hours into the flight, I glanced toward first class. There he was, sipping champagne next to his mother, smug as ever. I almost felt bad — almost.
Then came the in-flight entertainment. A flight attendant appeared beside him with a bill for a “special meal upgrade.” I watched him pat his pockets, confusion giving way to panic. He leaned toward his mother, whispering urgently. Moments later, he was marching down the aisle toward me, crouching by my seat with a nervous grin.
“Soph, I think I lost my wallet — do you have any cash?” he muttered.
“Sure,” I said sweetly, digging into my bag. “But I only have two hundred dollars. Will that cover your caviar cravings?”
His smile froze. He mumbled a thank-you and shuffled back up the aisle, shoulders slumped. When the flight attendant returned later, holding his mother’s credit card and wearing an expression that could sour milk, I knew my little lesson had landed at cruising altitude.
By the time we touched down, Clark was a shadow of his first-class self. His mother stormed ahead, muttering about “family embarrassment,” while he trailed behind us, quiet and humbled. As he loaded our bags into the taxi, I slipped his wallet back into his carry-on without a word.
He never asked how it “magically” reappeared, but I noticed something since that day — he hasn’t booked a flight without checking with me first. Maybe it was petty, maybe it was poetic, but that trip taught him what real partnership looks like.
Sometimes, the best way to remind someone you’re a team is to let them experience what flying solo truly feels like.