The following morning, I awoke to a scene of devastation. Expecting to find Hope happily playing in the living room, I instead discovered her sitting on the floor, tears streaming down her face.
“Mommy, my kitchen! It’s gone!” she sobbed, her voice trembling with heartbreak.
I hurried outside, a knot tightening in my stomach. There it was: Hope’s cherished mini kitchen set, along with her tiny fridge and all the little cooking utensils, strewn across the yard.
The rain from the previous night had soaked everything. The fridge lay on its side, water dripping from its edges, and the wooden parts of the kitchen set were swollen and splintered.
“Simon!” I called out, my voice breaking. “Come see this!”
Simon rushed out, his face paling as he took in the scene. “What in the world happened?” he muttered, more to himself than to me.
Just then, Eleanor emerged from the house, a cup of coffee in hand, looking entirely unfazed. “Good morning,” she greeted, completely ignoring the chaos in the yard.
“Mom, did you do this?” Simon demanded, his voice barely containing his anger.
Eleanor took a sip of her coffee. “Yes, I did. It was for her own good. She doesn’t need that ridiculous kitchen.”
Fury surged within me. “Eleanor, how could you? She adored that kitchen. Do you have any idea how much it meant to her?”
“She needs to learn to eat real food, not play around with snacks all day,” Eleanor replied dismissively. “I’m just trying to help.”
Simon stepped closer to his mother, his fists clenched. “This isn’t helping. You’ve crossed a line. You’ve destroyed something she loves, and you did it without even discussing it with us.”
Rolling her eyes, Eleanor retorted, “You two are overreacting. It’s just a bunch of toys.”
“It’s more than just toys, Mom,” Simon asserted, his voice rising. “It’s about respecting our decisions as parents. You’ve disrespected us and hurt Hope in the process.”
Hope, who had been silently observing, burst into tears again. “Daddy, why did Grandma do this? I loved my kitchen.”
I knelt beside Hope and embraced her tightly. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll fix this, I promise.”
Simon took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “Mom, you need to leave. We can’t have you here if you can’t respect our boundaries.”
Eleanor’s face flushed with anger. “You’re kicking me out? After all I’ve done for you?”
“This isn’t about being ungrateful,” I interjected firmly. “It’s about the fact that you’ve shown no regard for our parenting choices. You’ve caused so much distress for Hope. We need you to understand that this behavior is unacceptable.”
Eleanor scoffed. “You’ll regret this. You’re being disrespectful to me as her grandmother.”
Simon shook his head. “We’re doing what’s best for our daughter. If you can’t see that, then maybe it’s best if you find somewhere else to stay for a while.”
As Eleanor stormed off to pack her belongings, Simon and I exchanged a weary glance of solidarity. “We have to make a clear statement,” he said. “She can’t just get away with this.”
I nodded in agreement. “Let’s send her the bill for everything she destroyed. Maybe then she’ll understand how serious we are.”
1 Comment
MIL w as wrong. Totally wrong. I would have told her to leave too and sent her a bill. Not her child, not her home, not her business.