My Husband Made Me Host His Birthday Party with My Arm Broken – So I Taught Him a Lesson He’ll Never Forget

“See?” he said, putting an arm over my good shoulder. “I knew you’d come through.

You always do.”

I smiled and stepped away.

His coworkers came in, then his friends, then some family.

People kept asking, “What happened to your arm?” and “You still did all this?”

Before I could answer, Jason would laugh and say, “Yeah, she’s tough. Insisted on doing it all anyway.”

Then his mom, Linda, walked in.

She looked at my cast and immediately wrinkled her nose.

“What did you do now?” she asked.

“I slipped on the porch,” I said. “On the ice.

Broke my arm.”

She sniffed. “Well, if I were you, I’d still cook myself. Broken arm or not.

When I broke my wrist, I still had dinner on the table.”

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice.

“You know,” she said, “if you don’t try harder, men tend to look elsewhere.”

Then she straightened and gave Jason a smug little smile.

I smiled back.

Because she had no idea.

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