The old egg seller, his eyes weary and hands trembIing, continued to sell his eggs at a loss. Each day, he watched the sun rise over the same cracked pavement, hoping for a miracle. But the world was indifferent. His small shop, once bustling with life, now echoed emptiness.
The townspeople hurried past him, their footsteps muffled by their own worries. They no longer stopped to chat or inquire about the weather. The old man’s heart sank as he counted the remaining eggs in his baskets. Six left. Just six. The same number that the woman had purchased weeks ago.
He remembered her vividly—the woman with the determined eyes and the crisp dollar bill. She had bargained with him, driving a hard bargain for those six eggs. “$1.25 or I will leave,” she had said, her voice firm. He had agreed, even though it was less than his asking price. Desperation had cIouded his judgment.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The old seller kept his promise, selling those six eggs for $1.25 each time. He watched the seasons change—the leaves turning from green to gold, then falling to the ground like forgotten dreams. His fingers traced the grooves on the wooden crate, worn smooth by years of use.
One bitter morning, he woke to find frost cIinging to the windowpane. The chill seeped through the cracks, settling in his bones. He brewed a weak cup of tea, the steam rising like memories. As he sat on the same wooden crate, he realized that he could no longer afford to keep his small shop open.
The townspeople had moved on, their lives intertwined with busier streets and brighter lights. The old man packed up his remaining eggs, their fragile shells cradled in his weathered hands. He whispered a silent farewell to the empty shop, its walls bearing witness to countless stories—the laughter of children, the haggling of customers, and the quiet moments when he had counted his blessings.
Outside, the world was gray—a canvas waiting for a final stroke. He walked the familiar path, the weight of those six eggs heavier than ever. The sun peeked through the clouds, casting long shadows on the pavement. He reached the edge of town, where the road met the horizon.
And there, under the vast expanse of sky, he made his decision. With tears in his eyes, he gently placed the eggs on the ground. One by one, he cracked them open, releasing their golden yoIks. The wind carried their essence away, a bittersweet offering to the universe.
The old egg seller stood there, his heart as fragile as the shells he had broken. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. And in that quiet moment, he whispered a prayer—for the woman who had bargained with him, for the townspeople who had forgotten, and for himself.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, he turned away from the empty road. His footsteps faded, leaving behind a trail of memories. And somewhere, in the vastness of the universe, six golden yolks danced—a silent requiem for a forgotten dream.
My Husband Wouldn’t Watch Our Newborn To Let Me Shower, So I Came Up With a Plan To Teach Him a Lesson
While celebrating a new life and transitioning into a new role, a mother found herself struggling to get a moment alone after she welcomed her daughter. A time that was meant to be exciting for her and her husband led to them having a big fight over their parenting roles.
In the whirlwind of joy and exhaustion in the early days of parenthood, a mother found herself longing for a mere moment of quietness and alone time. She took to Reddit to share her frustrations. She started off by explaining that she had only had her child for two weeks. Her daughter was strictly breastfeeding, but in addition to cluster feeding, she realized her daughter found comfort in being close to her.
A mother holding her new born | Source: Shutterstock
This meant that her new role allowed her little to no time alone. “I’ve showered once by myself since having her, and it only lasted long enough for me to soap up before she was crying and my husband was bringing her into the bathroom with me. I think I literally had all of 2-3 minutes,” she wrote.
On the contrary, she noticed her husband’s life had not changed. He still got to have long and uninterrupted showers every day but never understood why his showers frustrated his wife.
Each time she was in the shower, and the baby would cry, her husband would bring their newborn to her to calm her down. It made her angry that he did not even try to calm the baby down on his own, but his excuse was that the child loved showers, and seeing her cry hurt him deeply.
A mother with her baby | Source: Shutterstock
As sweet as his fears sounded, the Redditor still needed to find a way to get a full self-care routine without a baby being handed over to her. So, she decided to call in help. She asked her mother to watch her daughter as she showered. Her husband was not there when she reached out to her child’s grandmother, but when he arrived, he asked what his mother-in-law was doing at their house.
Surprisingly, he was angry at his wife’s decision to call her mother just to take a shower. “I could have watched her. Why would you do that?” he asked, to which the Redditor responded, “Every time you watch her while I shower, she ends up in here with me within 2 minutes of me being in here because you don’t even try to calm her down.”
A mother with her baby | Source: Shutterstock
Therefore, after five days of trying to shave her legs, she could not wait to enjoy the warm water hitting her body and relaxing her muscles. “I need to self-care,” the Redditor emphasized.
The original poster’s honest account of her experience as a new mother erupted in a chorus of voices from commenters sharing their own experiences and offering support. One commenter challenged the husband’s logic and suggested, “If, according to hubby, showers calm her down, why isn’t he taking her on his 30-60 minute showers?”
A mother looking stressed with her child | Source: Shutterstock
Another suggestion was for the OP to lock the door as a temporary solution and to teach her husband a lesson on respecting someone’s privacy. Another Reddit user said the husband made himself look bad in front of his mother-in-law, but it was time he realized that he could also parent his daughter without always running to his wife.
The discussion took a deeper dive into the dynamics of communication and support within the relationship. Commenters pointed out the absurdity that the husband had been more concerned about his wife calling her mother rather than making sure that his wife’s well-being was attended to. “You found a way around it. And now, even knowing how hard it’s been for you, he’s still not actually concerned about you; he’s just worried about how it looks to your mum,” remarked a commenter.
A man sitting next to a crib looking stressed | Source: Shutterstock
One mother said her husband once interrupted her hair appointment but she had a serious conversation with him and made him look back at the number of haircuts he had had since their baby arrived. She told him never to interrupt her alone time unless it was an emergency, so the commenter advised the OP to have the same stern conversation with her husband.
A couple fighting | Source: Shutterstock
Another commenter shared a personal story of how her husband had slacked at the beginning of their parenting journey and how she eventually found a way to work as a team. The mother said her baby was a bit fussy on the first night home and she would always take the lead and calm her down.
But after three days, she put on earplugs and requested her husband only wake her up when the baby needed a feed and let her partner take care of the baby during the night, which led to a more equitable parenting dynamic.
The commenter added that allocating responsibilities helped them both understand the difficulty and joy of caring for a newborn, but it also allowed them to foster empathy and understanding. “That night, my partner became an equal parent,” the commenter added.
Here is a story about a newborn who cried nonstop no matter what the parents did. But they eventually realized the answer to their child’s misery was in the crib.
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