Are you a submissive man?! The motherinlaw gasped when she saw her son making breakfast himself
Whats this, a man in the kitchen?! she exclaimed, horrified to discover her son preparing the morning meal on his own.
Valentine Lefèvre had come to visit us for the first time in eight years. Since her son, Théo, and I had married, she had never set foot in our home. She lived in a tiny village near Bordeaux and rarely traveled to the cityage, health, and farm duties kept her there. This time, however, she insisted: Im coming to see how you live. After all, you have a family, a mortgagebound apartment I need to make sure everything is alright.
Honestly, I was relieved. All those years there had been no visits, no calls to check in. I hoped we could finally break the ice. We welcomed her properly: a prepared bedroom, traditional dishes, a cozy robe and comfortable slippers. Théo and I did our best. Between work and household chores it wasnt easy, but she deserved our attention.
The first days passed peacefully, without incident. Then Saturday morning arrived. I allowed myself a liein after a grueling week. Théo, ever thoughtful, got up earlier. He liked to do little things that pleased me. That day he decided to surprise his mother and me with breakfast.
Halfasleep, I heard the kitchen soundsthe sizzle of a pan, the coffee machine humming, the scent of buttered toast. I smiled, feeling lighthearted. My man, my considerate Théo. But the calm was brief. Valentine entered the kitchen.
Her voice cut through the doorway:
What are you doing, son? At the stove? Wearing an apron?!
Mom, I was just making breakfast. You must be tired from the trip. And Camille is still sleepinglet her rest. Besides, you know I enjoy cooking
Take that thing off me right now! A man in the kitchen, what a shame! Thats not why I raised you! Your father never washed a single dish in his life, and now youre making omelets like a maid! And Camille, why is she still in bed? Thats her role! Youre completely under her spell, its pathetic to watch!
I stayed under the covers, fists clenched, torn between laughing and stepping in. Her words disgusted me. I felt ashamed for Théo, hurt for myself, and feared this visit would leave lasting scars.
When she began to choke on her indignation, I got up. Théo still held his spatula, the omelet gently browning over the flame. Valentine trembled with anger, muttering about decadence, irresponsibility, and a man must be a man.
I quickly brewed a calming herbal teawithout it we might have had a heart attack on the spot. I sat beside her, took her hand, and tried to explain calmly:
In our house things work differently. Were partners. I cook, I clean, I work. Théo helps too. He cooks because he enjoys it, because he cares for us. Is that such a crime?
She didnt listen. Her face was hard, her gaze full of judgment. She said nothing, but her expression spoke: Youve turned my son into a wimp. When she left a few days later, without even an embrace, I realized she would never accept our way of life.
Later, Théo told me she had called his father to complain: Our boy has become his wifes servant, the poor thing doesnt even get to sleepup at dawn by the pots. I thought, how sad it is to raise a man to believe that caring for others is a weakness, that love is something to be ashamed of.
Im not angry, just sorrowfulsorrow for her, who spent a life believing the kitchen was a prison; for him, who had to fight for the right to be a good husband; and for me, because I had hoped we could become close.
At least one thing I know for sure: my man is not weak. He is someone who loves. If that displeases anyone thats their problem.
Are You a Submissive Man?!” — The Mother-in-Law is Appalled to Discover Her Son Making Breakfast on His Own
