I visited my pregnant sister, Lily, and couldn’t help but notice how much she was doing around the house. Her husband, Mark, was lounging on the couch, absorbed in his phone. I mentioned that with the baby coming soon, it would be helpful if he could lend a hand with some of the household chores. Mark scoffed and replied, “Oh, come on. It’s a woman’s job, you know?”

My frustration grew. I took a deep breath and said, “I’m just saying, maybe you could help out with the dishes or put together the crib. It’s not exactly rocket science.” Mark finally looked up, narrowed his eyes, and retorted, “You’re such a drama queen. Lily enjoys taking care of me, and she’ll enjoy taking care of our kid too. Don’t bring your progressive ideas into my house. My wife simply does what she is supposed to.”

His dismissive attitude ignited a spark of defiance in me. “You know what, Mark? You’re right. Lily does enjoy taking care of you. So much so that I bet you couldn’t last a day doing everything she does.” A smirk spread across Mark’s face as he accepted the challenge. “Oh really? And what if I prove you wrong?” he asked. I smiled and replied, “Then I’ll be your personal maid for the rest of my life. But if you lose, you have to step up and be the husband Lily deserves. Deal?” Mark laughed and shook on it.

I quickly went to the grocery store and bought the largest watermelon I could find. With Lily’s help, we transformed it into a “pregnancy simulator.” We cut the watermelon in half, scooped out the juicy insides, and wrapped each half in plastic wrap to create two bulky, belly-like orbs. When Mark got home, I presented the watermelon and handed him a detailed list of Lily’s daily tasks: laundry, dishes, vacuuming, mopping, grocery shopping, meal prep, and even painting the nursery.

Mark initially strutted around, puffed up with confidence, but it wasn’t long before he started struggling. The watermelon made simple tasks incredibly challenging. Bending over to pick up a sock nearly toppled him, and vacuuming turned into a comical waddle. The watermelon kept bumping against the washing machine door, preventing it from closing properly.

By lunchtime, Mark was sweating and moving at a snail’s pace. The watermelon’s sticky residue was everywhere. Painting the nursery was particularly difficult, with Mark precariously balancing on a stepladder. As the afternoon wore on, his bravado faded. He was on his hands and knees scrubbing the bathroom floor, having long forgotten his earlier cockiness.

Lily and I exchanged knowing glances. We could see that Mark was beginning to appreciate the hard work Lily put in daily. When the sun began to set, Mark finally gave up, collapsing on the couch, exhausted and defeated. He removed the watermelon and looked at Lily with tearful eyes. “I… I can’t do it. I give up!” he admitted.

Lily, standing tall and pregnant, gently cupped his cheek and said, “It’s okay. I know you didn’t realize how much I do. But I’m glad you understand now.” Tears of relief and hope shone in her eyes.

That night, as I helped Lily clean up the mess and prepare dinner, I noticed a significant change in the house. Mark was actively participating in the chores, tackling dishes, folding laundry, and even assembling the crib without complaint. He became attentive and supportive, cooking, cleaning, and caring for Lily.

When Lily went into labor a few days later, Mark was a pillar of strength. He supported her through contractions, offered comfort, and shed tears of joy when their baby girl was born. Seeing Mark cradling his daughter with love, I knew the watermelon experiment had been a success.

As I prepared to leave, Lily hugged me tightly, expressing her gratitude. “Thank you. You saved our marriage and gave our daughter a father who will love and cherish her always.” I hugged her back, feeling a deep warmth in my heart. I hoped Mark would maintain this newfound attitude, but if not, I’d be ready with another lesson—perhaps with another fruit.