“Well, Isn’t That Nice?”

It was one of those golden afternoons in the Deep South, when the air hung heavy with the scent of magnolias and the cicadas sang their steady song. Two Southern belles sat rocking gently on the porch of a grand white-pillared mansion, glasses of sweet tea glistening with beads of condensation. Their talk, as always, turned to family, marriage, and the gifts that husbands give—sometimes out of love, sometimes out of habit.

The Boastful Belle

The first lady, dressed in crisp linen and pearls, spoke with the quiet satisfaction of someone who had much to show for her life.

“When my first child was born,” she began, “my husband built me this beautiful mansion. Every column, every polished floorboard was his gift for giving him an heir.”

The second lady smiled serenely and replied in her soft, honeyed drawl, “Well, isn’t that nice?”

Encouraged, the first continued, “And when my second child was born, he bought me that fine Cadillac out front—shiny chrome, leather seats, the whole package.”

Again came the sweet, polite response: “Well, isn’t that nice?”

The first lady leaned closer, her eyes twinkling. “And when my third child arrived, he gave me this dazzling diamond bracelet.” She lifted her wrist proudly, and sunlight danced across the gems.

As always, the second belle simply smiled and murmured, “Well, isn’t that nice?”

The Question of Children

Curious now, the first lady tilted her head. “And what about your children, dear? What’s your son been up to?”

The second sighed dramatically. “Oh, my poor son! His marriage is a tragedy. He ended up with a woman who won’t lift a finger around the house. She spends her days in bed—reading, resting, or just lying there. Would you believe he even brings her breakfast every morning?”

The first lady gasped. “Why, that’s dreadful!”

“And your daughter?” she asked quickly.

The second belle’s face brightened like the morning sun. “My daughter is so fortunate! Her husband is an angel. He insists she never lifts a finger. Every morning, he brings her breakfast in bed, lets her rest as long as she wants, and treats her like a queen.”

The Lesson in the Laughter

The first lady blinked, then let out a soft laugh. The second joined her, both rocking in amused silence as the breeze carried the sound of their laughter down the porch steps.

Beneath the humor, though, lay a truth as old as the South itself: family pride and gender expectations have always danced to different tunes.

When a son serves his wife, folks say he’s being used. When a daughter is served, they say she’s blessed. What’s “terrible” in one story becomes “wonderful” in another—all depending on who’s telling it.

That porch-side chat, wrapped in charm and sweet tea, was more than idle talk. It was a mirror of old-fashioned double standards—of how tradition shaped judgment more than fairness ever did.

So the next time you hear someone say, “Well, isn’t that nice?”—listen closely.
Because behind those gentle words, there just might be a whole world of irony…and a touch of Southern wit too.