Two Southern Belles were chatting leisurely on the wide, white-pillared porch of a grand mansion, the kind of house where the rocking chairs creak just right and the magnolia trees sway gently in the warm breeze. The scent of freshly baked pies wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the sweet perfume of the garden flowers.
The first lady, adjusting the brim of her sun hat, said proudly, “When my first child was born, my husband built me this beautiful mansion. Every detail, from the sweeping staircase to the polished floors, was for me.” She smiled broadly, clearly reliving the memory.
The second lady, fanning herself delicately with a lace hand fan, replied with a gentle smile, “Well, isn’t that nice?”
The first continued, eyes twinkling, “And when my second child was born, he bought me that fine Cadillac parked out front. Shiny, luxurious, and every inch a symbol of his love.”
Again, the second woman responded sweetly, “Well, isn’t that nice?”
“And when my third child arrived,” the first said with a grin, holding up her wrist to display a sparkling diamond bracelet, “he gave me this dazzling piece of jewelry. It cost a fortune, of course, but I treasure it more than anything.”
The second lady, as always, replied softly and politely, “Well, isn’t that nice?”
Curiosity finally got the better of the first woman, who leaned closer and asked, “But honey, tell me, what did your husband give you when you had your first child?”
The second lady’s lips curved into a sly, knowing smile. “He sent me to charm school.”
“Charm school?! Land sakes, child—for what?” the first exclaimed, eyes wide.
The second lady leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper, “So instead of saying ‘Who gives a crap,’ I learned to say, ‘Well, isn’t that nice?’”
Both women laughed, the sound mingling with the rustle of the magnolia leaves, and the lesson of polite social manners carried on the warm Southern breeze.
Unlucky Husbands
Two women friends reunited after many years at a cozy café, sipping tea and reminiscing about old times. One asked curiously, “Tell me, what happened to your son?”
“Oh, my poor son!” sighed the mother, shaking her head as though still carrying the weight of the story. “His marriage is so unfortunate. He ended up with a girl who doesn’t lift a finger around the house. Can you believe it? She spends all day in bed—either sleeping, lounging, or reading her novels. And he even brings her breakfast in bed every single morning. Poor boy! He’s completely run ragged.”
“That’s terrible,” said her friend, frowning with sympathy. “And your daughter?”
She brightened a little at this. “Ah, my daughter is so fortunate! She married an absolute angel. He insists she doesn’t do anything around the house. Every morning, he brings her breakfast in bed. She can sleep as long as she likes, lounge all day, and never lift a finger. Truly, she lives in a dream.”
Her friend shook her head, a mix of envy and amusement on her face. “Well, it seems the fates weren’t quite fair to both your children, but at least one ended up with bliss!”
The mother chuckled and sipped her tea, thinking that while misfortune and luck sometimes play strange games, a little humor and perspective always made it easier to enjoy the story.