The package sat on her porch for exactly 27 minutes before she opened it. I know because I timed it. The meltdown that followed was the most glorious thing I’ve ever heard through a phone. Totally worth the overnight shipping. Let me explain. My wife Jane is wonderful—smart, funny, kind. We’ve built a happy, simple life together. Everything’s great… except for her mother, Celia. Celia is the kind of mother-in-law who sees every gift I give Jane as a personal attack. When I gave Jane a bracelet, Celia called me to complain she’s never gotten jewelry in 32 years of motherhood. A vacation?

She reminded us she hasn’t had one in “decades.” Flowers from my late mom’s garden for Mother’s Day? She called them “weeds.” Jane, always the peacemaker, chalked it up to loneliness and tried to include her more. I tried too. But the passive-aggressive digs kept coming. Then came the tarantula. Jane had recently fallen in love with weird gifts—geode lamps,