Later that afternoon, we drifted into talking about our grown children and their marriages.
Margaret’s face tightened as she launched into a rant about her son’s wife. According to her, the marriage was a complete disaster. The girl was lazy, she said. She didn’t lift a finger, spent half the day in bed reading, and worst of all, her poor son brought her breakfast on a tray every single morning.
Margaret spoke as if her son were a servant being exploited.
I listened quietly, waiting for her to mention her daughter, whom I knew had married recently as well.
When she finally did, her expression transformed.
Her son-in-law, she declared, was an absolute angel. A dream husband. He insisted her daughter never do any housework. He encouraged her to sleep as late as she wanted. And yes — he brought her breakfast in bed every single morning so she could relax.
The exact same behavior.
Two completely different verdicts.
It was fascinating to watch her condemn a daughter-in-law as lazy while praising a son-in-law for identical actions.
And that’s when it became obvious: in this world, someone is either an “angel” or “useless” not because of what they do — but because of whose child they married.
