My mom has never liked my wife, Sarah. From the very beginning, she made her feelings clear—Sarah wasn’t “good enough” for me. No matter how kind or patient Sarah was, my mom always found a reason to criticize her.

It was exhausting. I tried to keep the peace, hoping my mom would eventually warm up to her, but after years of cold remarks, judgmental looks, and passive-aggressive comments, I had given up on that dream.

This time, though, I had had enough.

We went to pick up my mom from the airport. As soon as she walked out of the terminal, her eyes landed on Sarah sitting in the front seat of our car.

Her face twisted with disapproval, and the first words out of her mouth were, “How disrespectful. The wife should never sit in the front when the mother is present.”

Sarah, used to my mom’s antics, simply sighed and looked away. I could feel the tension rising. My mom huffed as she placed her bags in the trunk, still mumbling about “young people these days” and their “lack of respect.”

That’s when I got an idea.

I turned to Sarah and said, “Honey, would you mind sitting in the back? Just this once?”

Sarah looked at me, her eyes searching mine. She must have seen something in my face, some unspoken message, because after a brief hesitation, she nodded and slid into the backseat. My mom smirked as she took the front seat, as if she had won some battle.

As I started the car, I casually mentioned, “Oh, by the way, the passenger-side window doesn’t roll up.”

Mom barely reacted. “It’s fine,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s such a nice, sunny day.”

She had no idea what was coming.

A few minutes into the drive, we passed a car wash. I saw my opportunity and took it. “Hey, we should get the car washed. It’s been a while.”

Sarah, catching on, grinned in the backseat.

My mom, still oblivious, didn’t say anything as I pulled into the automatic car wash lane. As soon as the huge spinning brushes came down, spraying soapy water all over the car, my mom suddenly tensed. She turned to me, alarmed.

“Wait… the window!”

I pretended to panic. “Oh no! I forgot!”

Before she could react, the high-pressure water jets blasted through the open window, hitting her right in the face.

She screamed. A high-pitched, shocked sound that filled the car as freezing water soaked her hair, her clothes, and everything in between. Her perfectly styled curls collapsed under the flood. Soap suds splattered all over her expensive jacket. She flailed, trying to block the water with her hands, but it was no use.

Sarah, in the backseat, was doing everything she could to hold in her laughter. But a small giggle escaped, which only made my mom angrier. “Stop laughing and help me!” she shrieked, still being pelted with soapy water.

I did my best to look concerned, but inside, I was enjoying every second. “I’m so sorry, Mom! I completely forgot about the window! Just hold on a little longer; it’s almost over.”

But we still had two more rounds of rinsing left.

By the time we finally rolled out of the car wash, my mom looked like a drowned rat. Her clothes stuck to her body, her makeup was smeared down her face, and her once-proud hair was now a tangled, wet mess.

I parked the car and turned to her, trying my hardest to look apologetic. “Mom, I’m so sorry. But hey, at least you got refreshed, right?”

Sarah lost it. She burst into full-on laughter, covering her mouth but failing to hide the sound. My mom shot daggers at both of us, her lips pressed together in a furious line.

“This is not funny,” she growled, her voice shaking with rage.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Mom, I think we should look at the bright side,” I said. “At least now you’re super clean. And, well… it’s only fair. Sarah got out of the front seat for you. Now, you got a little extra ‘seat treatment’ in return.”

That’s when she realized.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “You did this on purpose.”

I shrugged. “What do you mean?”

“You planned this, didn’t you?!”

Sarah, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, finally spoke. “Oh, come on, Mom. It was just a little water. No harm done.”

My mom fumed, crossing her arms. She sat stiffly for the rest of the drive, soaked and seething. When we finally reached home, she stormed inside without another word. She didn’t even wait for me to carry her bags.

Later that night, she didn’t mention the car wash incident. But her attitude toward Sarah was noticeably different. She wasn’t exactly warm, but she was quiet. No snide comments. No backhanded insults. Just silence.

Sarah and I exchanged a knowing look. Maybe, just maybe, my mom had finally learned a little lesson about respect.

The next day, she demanded that I fix the window.

I told her I’d get to it eventually.

Now, here’s my question for you: if you were in my shoes, would you have done the sa