I agreed to clean up alone after Easter, but my MIL and Husband’s Sisters weren’t ready for my ‘Surprise’

My husband’s family didn’t know I’d concealed something special among those chocolate bunnies when they hired me as their Easter maid. What occurred next still makes me laugh.

I’ve never posted my dirty laundry online. Really, I’m not. The Easter event was too lovely not to share.

I’m Emma, 35, a marketing director for a mid-sized company, and married to Carter for three great years. Carter fulfills all my needs. He’s kind, witty, and can load a dishwasher.

Our relationship has been nearly perfect except for one major concern. HIS FAMILY.

“Emma, honey, could you grab me another mimosa while you’re up?” I’d barely taken two steps toward the kitchen when my mother-in-law Patricia’s voice floated over our rear patio last month.

She’d been sitting in her comfy lounge chair for nearly an hour.

I don’t gripe about everything. Social media isn’t where I vent or publish passive-aggressive status updates. Carter’s mother and sisters, Sophia, Melissa, and Hailey, are exceptional. By exceptional, I mean entitled.

I smiled, “Of course, Patricia,” after three years of marriage.

They made it plain 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.

“Oh, Emma, you’re so brave to wear something that tight,” Sophia, 41, the oldest, said at our last family gathering, examining my regular clothing.

Melissa, 39, always 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. We have strong family customs. Hope you can keep up.”

But this Easter? WOW, they outdid themselves.

“Since you and Carter don’t have kids yet,” Melissa said three weeks before Easter as her three children climbed all over my freshly cleaned furniture, “it would make sense for you to organize the Easter Egg Hunt.”

Go beyond hiding plastic eggs. No.

I had to organize a scavenger hunt, outfits, and a bunny mascot using my own money.

“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. “That sounds like a lot of work,” he began, but his sisters interrupted him.

“It’s just what we do in this family,” Hailey shrugged, though she’d never organized anything.

Fine. Swallowed my protests. For now.

They didn’t know I’d started planning an unforgettable Easter.

My phone vibrated two days before Easter with a text. Patricia organized a family talk. Naturally, excluding Carter.

“Honey, since you’re helping, cooking Easter dinner would be great! “Carter deserves a wife who hosts well. ”

I watched my phone while Sophia, Melissa, and Hailey offered “suggestions.” My blood pressure rose with each notification.

Her intent was to cook for 25. Full spread: ham, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, deviled eggs, rolls, two desserts, and “a lighter option for those of us watching our figure.”

They all declined to provide pies.

“They want you to do what?” Carter asked when I showed him messages. Face flushed with rage. “That’s ludicrous. Talk to them.”

“No,” I murmured, touching his arm. “Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s too much effort, Emma. Maybe I should order catering.”

I kissed his cheek and grinned. “I’ve got this, trust me.”

Beautiful spring weather arrived on Easter Sunday. I’d been concealing eggs for the hunt and preparing the feast they demanded since morning. Carter’s family flooded our house before midday. His mother, three sisters, their husbands, and four–12 children.

Patricia said, “Emma, this ham is a bit dry,” after one taste.

Melissa said, “The potatoes need more butter.”

Sophia noted, “In our family, we usually serve the gravy in a proper boat, not a measuring cup,” albeit I’d 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. Their youngsters ran free, spreading chocolate everywhere.

Melissa’s youngest knocked over a vase, but no one cleaned up. All I heard was “Kids will be kids!”

After eating, they sat on the couches with their wine cups, motionless.

Sophia said, “Emma,” “the kitchen isn’t going to clean itself.”

“Oh, honey,” Patricia said. You can now clean up. You must prove your wifeliness.”

While their husbands watched basketball in the den, they grinned and lounged on the couch like queens.

Carter rose. “I’ll help you, Emma.”

I shouted “No, sweetie,” to everyone. “You worked hard all week. Go chill with the boys.”

Happy glances from the sisters. They thought they won.

I grinned. My smile was pleasant. Clapped my hands.

“Absolutely!” Chirped. “I’ll handle everything!”

As they resumed discussing Sophia’s voyage, their smug features relaxed. Hailey kicked up her feet on my coffee table, leaving small shoe impressions.

“Kids!” I shouted happily. “Who’s ready for the special Easter Egg Hunt now?”

Children ran from all over the house, excited.

“But I thought we already did the egg hunt this morning,” Patricia said.

“Oh,” I winked at the kids. “Just the usual hunt. Time for the Golden Egg Challenge.”

Kids squealed from excitement.

“What’s the Golden Egg Challenge?” Melissa’s ten-year-old son asked excitedly.

“Well,” I said, bringing out a dazzling golden plastic egg from my pocket, “I hid something extra special while setting up the regular Easter Egg Hunt this morning.”

The youngsters surrounded me, amazed by the shiny egg in my palm.

“Inside this golden egg is a note about a VERY SPECIAL PRIZE,” I whispered. “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.

Kids were practically salivating. Patricia and her girls watched from the couch with modest interest, perhaps thinking I was talking about a toy or gift card.

“The golden egg is hidden somewhere in the backyard,” I said. The finder receives the ultimate prize! Ready?”

Children ran for the rear door, practically trampling each other to get outdoors.

“That’s sweet of you, Emma,” Patricia said from the couch. “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 triumphant 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. Can’t have planned better if I tried.

A golden egg From Pexels
A Pexels-sourced golden egg

“Congratulations, Lily!” I rejoiced as everyone gathered. “Would you like to open it and read your prize?”

The eight-year-old eagerly opened the plastic egg and removed a small wrapped paper. Reading it made her frown.

“Would you like me to read it for everyone?” I offered pleasantly.

She nodded and gave me the document.

“Ahem,” I dramatically coughed. “The Golden Egg winner gets the Grand Prize: Your family cleans up Easter completely! Congratulations!”

Three glorious seconds of silence filled our backyard.

Then the commotion.

“What?” Sophia nearly choked on wine as she spluttered.

“That’s not a prize!” Melissa complained.

Miss Lily looked confused. “I have to clean?”

“Not just you,” I said pleasantly. “Your family helps! Wow, that’s exciting. Cleaning up the kitchen, dishes, and candy wrappers…

Patricia began, “Emma,” sternly. “This is just a joke, right?”

“Oh no, it’s the official Golden Egg prize,” I said. “The kids have been so excited about it.”

The most amazing thing happened then. All the kids chanted, “CLEAN UP! CLEAN UP!”

Carter couldn’t contain his laughter.

“This isn’t funny,” Hailey said.

Carter stepped beside me and wrapped an arm around my waist, “Actually,” “it’s hilarious.”

Sophia argued, “We can’t expect the kids to clean,” her face crimson.

“I’m just following the rules,” I said politely. Family traditions matter, right? You taught me!”

Patricia rose, plainly struggling to retake control. “Emma, dear, this is inappropriate.”

“Is it?” I asked innocently. “More improper than one individual cooking and cleaning for 25 people alone? More inappropriate than criticizing my meal while you eat it?”

The kids kept chanting, louder each time. Several had started collecting yard rubbish, taking the challenge seriously.

“Mom,” Lily tugged Sophia’s beautiful blouse. We won!” We must clean!”

As their children’s enthusiasm grew and the situation became unpleasant, they had no choice.

“Fine,” Sophia said.

I smiled and gave her rubber gloves. “The dish soap is under the sink.”

I sipped a perfectly chilled mimosa on the terrace with my feet up for an hour, watching Carter’s mother and sisters clean dishes, counters, and floors.

Carter clinked his glass with mine. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“I learned from the best,” I said. “Your family always says how important it is to follow traditions.”

I noticed Patricia clumsily scrubbing dried gravy from my roasting pan. Her expression changed briefly. Something suspiciously like respect.

Next Easter? They’ll probably bring cleaning supplies and potluck dishes.

If you liked this tale, try another: My payback for my grandsons after they left my wife at a gas station was cold. Sometimes love is hard and lessons must sting to stick.

Inspired by true events and people, this work is fictionalized for creativity. To preserve privacy and enrich the story, names, characters, and facts were changed. Any resemblance to real people, events, or places is unintentional.

The author and publisher neither guarantee event authenticity nor character characterization and are not liable for misinterpretation. While this work is presented “as is,” the characters’ viewpoints do not reflect those of the author or publisher.

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