I Came Home Early & Went Pale When I Saw My Husband Performing His Spanish Tradition over Our 6-Month-Old Baby

I wasn’t supposed to be home yet.

That thought kept running through my mind as I stood frozen in the doorway, my keys still dangling from my hand. I had come back early from visiting my sister, who was scheduled to give birth at any moment.

“Go home, Tess,” she said, rubbing her big belly. “Dante and Javier need you. I’m just impatiently waiting for my little girl to pop out.”

“Are you sure, Kayla?” I asked as I made her a smoothie. “I know how I felt when I was almost ready to give birth to Dante. Everyone was around me, but I felt lonely. It was like they only worried about the baby, not me.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’m okay, I promise you. Go home, and when your niece is born, you’ll be the first to know!”

And that’s how I ended up home early. I thought that maybe I’d surprise my husband, Javier, have a quiet evening together with our six-month-old son, Dante, and just be in our little bubble.

But now?

Now, looking at the scene in front of me, I couldn’t even breathe.

In front of me, my husband was dressed head to toe in a ridiculous devil costume. I’m talking about the full rigout, the horns, the red cape, the whole works.

And my baby? My precious boy lay on the floor on top of a mattress, completely unaware of the madness happening around him. My eyes darted between them, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

It wasn’t Halloween. It was nowhere close to October.

My brain was refusing to catch up with the reality in front of me.

Then, my husband jumped.

He jumped over our baby.

A small, strangled noise escaped my throat.

What the hell was going on?

I wasn’t sure if I was hallucinating. Maybe I was still exhausted from my trip to see Kayla. But no, not even exhaustion could make this up.

It was real. Too real.

“Are you insane?!” I screamed, my voice shaky and high-pitched. “What the hell are you doing, Javier?”

The words exploded out of me before I even had a chance to think. My heart was pounding in my ears, and my legs felt like they might give out.

My husband, the man I married, despite his family’s protests about the cultural barriers between us, had just leaped over our child like it was some sort of bizarre sporting event.

Javier froze in mid-leap, stumbling as he landed. He almost tripped over the cape, which fluttered awkwardly as he turned to face me.

He was still wearing that stupid devil mask.

Behind him, his mother stood off to the side, calmly recording the whole ordeal on her phone.

As if this was just another day at the office.

She looked… proud.

What the heck?

“Wait, wait! It’s not what it looks like!” my husband said, ripping off the mask. “Let me explain!”

“Explain?” I shrieked. “What could possibly explain this? You’re in our living room, dressed like the devil and jumping over our baby! Javier, what in the actual hell is going on?”

“It’s not dangerous,” he blurted out, as if that was the best thing to say. He raised his hands like he was trying to soothe a wild animal. “It’s not anything dangerous, Tess, I swear.”

I took a step back.

“You’re jumping over our child, Javier. What if you missed and jumped on him? How can you not see how dangerous this is?”

Javier flinched, glancing back at our son, who was still lying on his tummy-time mattress, completely unaware of the chaos around him.

“It’s a tradition, Tess,” he said. “It’s from our village in Spain. It’s a tradition called El Colacho. It’s done every single year. And it’s supposed to ward off evil spirits and protect babies from bad luck.”

“El Colacho?” I echoed, my voice thick with disbelief. “You’re telling me that you’re dressed like the devil, jumping over our son because of some village superstition?”

“It’s not just a superstition, Tess,” his mother, Lucia, chimed in, still holding up her phone, filming everything.

Including my reaction.

She had a small smile on her face, like she couldn’t understand why I wasn’t thrilled by this.

“It’s a very old tradition, my dear. It’s good luck for the baby. It’s supposed to keep evil away from him forever. Babies are very vulnerable to spirits and energies. This tradition keeps the bad ones away.”

I stared at my mother-in-law, then at Javier.

“I don’t care if it’s a tradition from under the sea or from the moon. Why didn’t you tell me you were planning to do this? If it’s so important, then don’t you think his mother should have known?”

Javier rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my eyes.

“I didn’t think you’d understand…”

“Of course I don’t understand!” I could feel my anger boiling over. “You’re jumping over our baby like he’s some kind of obstacle! From my point of view, I didn’t know if you were going to hurt him or worse!”

“I wasn’t going to hurt him, Tess,” Javier said quietly, stepping toward me again, his voice soft. “How could you think that? I’d never hurt Dante. It’s just something we do. It’s been done for generations in my family. How could we ignore it? Especially with Dante being the first-born grandchild in this family?”

“But why not tell me?” I repeated.

I felt betrayed, blindsided by the whole situation.

“I deserve to know what’s happening with our child, Javier! You should have told me. You should have prepared me.”

His shoulders slumped as guilt spread across his face.

“You weren’t supposed to come home until later. I was going to explain it to you then.”

“After? After what? After I walk in and see you leaping over our child like a mad man?”

“I didn’t think it would go like this. I’m sorry,” he winced.

“And what if I wanted to be a part of it? You and Lucia could have explained it to me properly, and we could have done it as a family.”

“I’m sorry,” he said flatly.

I couldn’t shake the image of him, dressed like a devil, soaring over our baby while his mother stood there.

“What if something had gone wrong? What if you’d slipped?”

“I wouldn’t have!” he said. “Tess, I’m careful. I promise you. This is supposed to bring good luck, not harm.”

“I don’t care about your stupid good luck,” I snapped. “What about me? You didn’t think I should know?”

He looked down, ashamed of himself.

“I didn’t think you’d react like this.”

I swallowed hard.

“I know you come from a different culture, and I respect that. But when it comes to our baby, I need to be part of these decisions. You can’t just spring something like this on me. While you’re doing it.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

I sighed and sat down at the edge of the bed. My anger was still there, but beneath it, I felt something else. A gnawing guilt.

Maybe I had overreacted. Maybe I should’ve asked more questions before flying off the handle. But I couldn’t shake the image of my baby lying there while Javier jumped over him.

“You should have told me,” I said, rubbing my temples. “Please, give me the baby.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer to pick Dante up. “And I’ll never keep something like this from you again.”

“I’m going home,” Lucia suddenly announced as she put her phone away. “This was a good thing, Tess. Don’t overreact about it. This will protect your son.”

She walked out of the room in silence and let herself out.

For a long moment, neither of us said anything. I just held onto Dante and tried to understand how I should feel.

The room felt too quiet. Too tense.

“Next time, no surprises. I need to know what’s going on with our family. Especially when it comes to traditions that I don’t know already.”

“No more surprises, I promise,” he said. “Come on, Mom and I made paella for dinner. I was going to tell you everything over dinner.”

We went downstairs, and I sat at the table while Javier sorted out the food.

“Maybe you’d like to learn more about them? The traditions, I mean?” Javier asked as he brought over a plate for me.

“Maybe,” I agreed. “But no more jumping over our son, okay?”

He chuckled softly and let out a sigh.

Look, I understand the need to uphold family traditions and cultures, and maybe I could be more tolerant of it all. I held onto my son tightly. This experience was a bit much for me…

What would you have done?

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Honestly, I don’t even know where to start. I’ve replayed the last two weeks over and over, and it still doesn’t feel real. So, here I am, sitting on a rocking chair in my son’s nursery, trying to understand what has been going on in my life.

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This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.