Lisa is furious when Eric refuses to buy eggs for their children, but she lets it go. Until she discovers…
Lisa is furious when Eric refuses to buy eggs for their children, but she lets it go. Until she discovers he’s been covertly stocking his mother’s fridge. Lisa plans a little act of retaliation to educate him where his allegiance should lie, but it turns into a serious talk that could change their marriage.

I never anticipated writing a diatribe about eggs, but here I am.

Egg prices are ridiculous nowadays! Recent grocery store prices make them seem gold-plated.

For our family?

Eggs go beyond breakfast. We have two busy, growing toddler boys who depend on them for breakfast.

So when Eric casually recommended we cut back on groceries and quit buying eggs, I was enraged.

But I swallowed my rage.

Until I found those eggs’ destination.

Last Monday, I called Eric on his way home from work.

“Hey, love,” I said. “Can you get a few dozen eggs on your way back? Since the boys are almost out, you know they need eggs. Please grab some bananas too.”

The line paused. His radio clicked off softly. Then he hit me.

“Lisa, have you checked egg prices lately? Expensive as hell. Boys don’t need them much. Toby eats them out of habit, not liking them. And Leo? He eats almost anything. We must cut grocery costs.”

Cutting back?

On food? For our kids?

I squeezed my phone so hard I thought it would break.

Eric, we won’t “reduce spending” by sacrificing kids’ nutrition. Perhaps you should cancel your streaming services. When did you last finish a show?

Eric sighed, like if I was crazy.

Lisa, eggs are eggs. Give them more fruit or something.”

I clenched my lips, resisting the need to yell.

Okay, Eric. Play this “we need to save money” game and see who wins.

I drove the guys to the grocery. In addition to eggs, I bought chocolate bars, fresh fruit, yogurt, and bottled smoothies. We would have plenty breakfast.

Later that weekend, we visited Eric’s mother, Nancy. Nancy rarely interfered with my parenting or hovered over me.

I accepted her request to bring the boys over to spend time with them. I brought their lunches since she rarely cooks.

I immediately put the boys’ lunchboxes in the fridge upon arrival. Who wants all-day-old sandwiches?

It was then I saw it.

A fridge full with eggs.

Not one or two extra boxes, but fully stocked, stacked cartons. Nancy was either hosting an egg-eating contest or feeding the community.

My jaw almost fell.

“What the heck?” I shouted. “Nancy! How did you obtain so many eggs? Nowadays, I can barely buy a dozen at a fair price!”

Nancy smiled at me, blissfully ignorant of my growing fury.

“Oh, Lisa! Wonderful, right? Eric brought them over yesterday so I didn’t have to search town. What a thoughtful guy!

Felt my heart drop.

I looked at Eric, who was browsing his mom’s snack drawer like nothing had occurred. Eric who felt eggs were “too expensive” for his kids.

Guilt flooded his cheeks when he looked up.

I inhaled slowly.

Not here, Lisa. Not before Nancy.

Eric would retreat into his defensive shell, Nancy would jump to his side, and I’d look like the overdramatic wife if I called him out now.

Instead, I smiled politely.

“Oh, Eric! You’re kind!”

His shoulders relaxed, thinking he was free.

Sweet, ignorant man. You’re unaware.

I didn’t speak the whole way home.

I stopped fuming. Was calculating.

Come Monday morning?

Operation Priorities began.

Eric expected his typical breakfast—eggs, toast, sausages.

Instead?

Black coffee and one slice of dry bread. No sugar.

Puzzled, he examined the plate. Where’s the rest of my breakfast?

The sweetest smile was mine.

“Oh, honey! I have to cut costs, remember? Eggs are too pricey. Milk, sausages—can’t justify them either. Frugality is required.”

His confused and annoyed expression twisted.

Lisa, it was about kids’ lunches! Not mine!”

Sideways head tilt. I figure you can survive without eggs if our kids don’t need them.

He grumbled and nibbled his sad, dry bread.

“Alright then, I’ll go get the boys ready for school,” I remarked carelessly, leaving.

Similar story the next day.

And then.

And then.

Eric never tried to prepare eggs; he accepted the bad meals.

His patience ran out on the fifth morning.

“Okay! Enough! I understand!”

I looked up from tea innocently. “Get what, darling?”

“I shouldn’t have given my mom all those eggs and told you to skip them for the boys. A selfish act. I didn’t know how to refuse when she called. Now I understand. I want my eggs back.

Leaning against the counter, I folded my arms.

“I don’t know… I considered giving Nancy the final carton today. Well, she’s certainly your priority.”

He groaned in frustration, rubbing his face.

“Okay, Lisa. Yes, I understand. The kids come first. I erred.”

I lingered in silence.

I then took an egg from the fridge and placed it on his dish.

“There. One egg. Enjoy.”

He opened his mouth.

“Lisa! What to do with a raw egg?

“Come on. Figure it out. Egg frying is simple. Thank goodness I didn’t ship it to Nancy’s fridge.”

Eric thought that lonely egg offended him.

His breath was deep. Lisa, there’s more. May I simply explain?

I remained silent. He was watched.

His palm covered his face as he sighed.

It’s not just eggs. Work is hard. I worry about being cut every day. I felt saving tiny amounts would provide us a cushion.”

My face softened.

Eric, you could have told me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. You handle the boys and house—I didn’t want to burden you.”

You sacrifice eggs for your kids? My voice was low but disappointed.

Staring at his plate, he looked despondent.

It was dumb. Panicked. When Mom called about missing eggs, I reversed. When I was little, she worked hard. I felt obligated to aid her even if she doesn’t need it.”

I observed him intently. I saw the shame behind this absurd egg mess for the first time—the dread of disappointing his family, the need to satisfy his mother, the weight of it all.

“Eric,” I whispered. I understand trying to help your mother. But not at the price of your kids. And only after consulting me.”

His eyes searched mine as he looked up. You’re right. I should have prioritized family. Now I see.”

I grabbed his hand across the table.

Starting now, we talk. No more secret cuts. No more single choices. As a team.”

His fingers were tight around mine.

I heard the boys’ upstairs alarm. They would rush into the kitchen at any moment.

“Together,” he repeated.

Want an omelet today? Finally, smiling, I asked.

Eric giggled in relief. “Yes. Please.”

Day after, things changed. Eric went grocery shopping, the boys grabbed eggs, and I stopped punishing dry toast.

When I opened the fridge last Friday to collect eggs for the boys, I almost dropped the carton.

We had six cartons instead of two or three.

Eric was browsing his phone by the coffee maker when I turned slowly.

“Eric? Why all the eggs? Have you adopted chickens?

A sly smirk appeared on his face.

“I considered stocking up. “So we don’t run out again.”

I squinted at him while toasting bread.

“You okay with that?”

You proved your point, Lisa. Not everything is negotiable. Food for kids is one. I also enjoy eggs.”

Shaking my head, I laughed. Look at you. Personal growth, everything.”

Eric laughed, and for the first time in a while, we felt like a team again.