When Mary discovers her grandson, Timmy, hasn’t received the $300 she sends monthly, suspicion falls on her daughter-in-law, Susan.
So, I’ve been sending 300 dollars every month to my grandson, Timmy, through Susan.
She picks up the letters and hands them to him.
At least, that’s what we agreed she would do.
The reality, however, was very different!I came up with this plan and specifically told Susan not to mention the money comes from me because I don’t want to look like I’m buying Timmy’s love.
The point of that money was not to spoil him, after all, but to teach him a valuable life skill.
My son and Susan do well enough financially but I wanted to ensure Timmy always got enough pocket money to help him learn to be financially responsible.
That’s how I was raised, and how I raised all my kids, too.
I thought everything was working out fine until one day, Timmy called me, asking for money.”
Grandma, can you send me some money? I really want to buy this toy I’ve been dreaming about,” he said, his little voice full of excitement and hope.
I was confused. “But Timmy, didn’t your mom give you pocket money just last week?” “No,” he replied, sounding a bit down. “I’ve been asking Mom to give me pocket money for ages, but she says I’m too young.” My jaw dropped.
It took a minute before I could string a sentence together, but there was one more question I needed to ask Timmy.”But what about the toys you already have? Where did you get the money to buy them?” I asked. “Dad sometimes lets me earn money for doing chores, but it’ll never be enough for the toy I want, Grandma!
Please help me out,” he pleaded. “Mom says I should never ask you for money, but it’s just this one time.” I had been willing to give Susan the benefit of the doubt up until that point, but now I couldn’t help but think something underhanded was going on. Timmy’s answer to my next question would tell me everything I needed to know.”Well, did you ask your mom for money, Timmy?” I asked.
Timmy let out as deep a sigh as a seven-year-old can manage. “Mom never gives me any money,” he mumbled. That was it. I felt my heart sink and then a wave of anger surged through me. I knew something wasn’t right. I had suspected Susan of being a bit greedy, but stealing money from her own son? That was a new low.
My mind raced. Had she been pocketing the money all this time? Was this some kind of misunderstanding?I couldn’t shake off the image of my sweet grandson being deprived of the little joys I wanted to provide for him, or the opportunity to learn to manage his money.
I told him I’d see what I could do to help him and said goodbye soon afterward. The more I thought about the money, the angrier I became. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and my hands trembled with fury. I couldn’t let this go. I had to find out the truth. So, I decided to test my theory.The next day, I phoned Susan and put my plan in motion.
“Hey Susan, it’s been a while since we had some girl time. How about a walk and a little window shopping?” I suggested, trying to keep my voice light and friendly. Inside, though, I was seething with suspicion and ready to catch her in the act. Susan, oblivious to my suspicions, eagerly agreed. She even seemed excited at the prospect of some time out. We ended up at an antique store owned by my old friend, Helen.Now, Susan didn’t know Helen, so she had no idea I had set this whole thing up.
I had called Helen the night before and explained everything. She was more than willing to lend a hand. As soon as we walked in, Helen greeted us warmly. “Hello, ladies! What brings you to my humble store today?” she asked, with a twinkle in her eye. Her knowing glance reassured me that we were in sync. “We’re just browsing,” I said, giving Helen a subtle nod.
Part of the plan was to pretend we didn’t know each other. “Do you have any jewelry?” Helen began to show us various pieces of jewelry, each one more beautiful than the last.”This necklace is particularly lovely, don’t you think?” she said, holding up a sparkling piece that caught the light perfectly. Susan’s eyes lit up immediately.
“Oh, it’s stunning! How much is it?” she asked. She touched the necklace delicately, her eyes gleaming with desire. “It’s five hundred dollars,” Helen replied with a smile. Susan’s face fell. “Oh, that’s a bit out of my budget,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment but failing miserably.
I could see the gears turning in her head, calculating how she could get the money. That’s what I’d been waiting for.We left the shop soon afterward and I mentioned that Timmy had told me about the toy he wanted so desperately. “I know I probably shouldn’t, but I want to send Timmy another five hundred dollars tomorrow so he can get his toy. Is that okay?” I asked. Susan’s eyes widened, and she tried to hide her excitement.”Of course!
That’s so generous of you, Mary!” she exclaimed. “And it’s okay to spoil a child every now and then, right?” I nodded. Now, it was time to move on to the next part of my plan.That evening, I carefully prepared an envelope with five hundred dollars in fake money. I had kept a stash of realistic-looking bills from an old novelty board game that Timmy and I used to play. It was perfect for this little plan of mine. My heart was pounding as I sealed the envelope, a mix of nervousness and anticipation coursing through me.
I sent the envelope with a note: “For Timmy. Love, Grandma.” I felt a twinge of guilt as I wrote the words, but I quickly pushed it aside. This was necessary. Susan needed to learn a lesson, and I needed to know the truth.Sure enough, later that day, Susan went to the antique store, believing the money was real. Helen called me as soon as she walked in.”
Mary, your daughter-in-law is here,” she whispered, her voice barely containing her excitement. “And she’s asked to see the necklace again.” “Perfect. I’ll be there soon,” I replied, grabbing my car keys. My hands were shaking as I started the car, a blend of adrenaline and determination propelling me forward. This was it. The moment of truth.When I arrived at the store, I saw Susan at the counter, nervously handing over the money to Helen.
Helen took one look at the bills and her face darkened. “This is fake money,” she said, examining one of the bills closely.Susan’s face went pale. “What? No, it can’t be! It’s real, I swear!” she stammered, her voice shaking. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, completely blindsided by the accusation. Helen shook her head. “This is counterfeit money. You can’t use this here. In fact, using fake money is a crime. I’ll have to call the police.”I stepped forward as Helen reached for the phone.
Her movements were deliberate, each second dragging out the tension in the room. Susan burst into tears. “Please, don’t call the police! I didn’t know it was fake!” “Susan? What’s going on here?” I asked innocently.”Please, Mary, help me!” she cried, turning to me with desperate eyes. Her voice was high-pitched and frantic, a stark contrast to her usual composed demeanor. “This woman thinks my money is counterfeit!”
“That’s because it is!” I declared.I stepped closer, keeping my voice calm but firm. “Susan, this is what happens when you lie and steal. I trusted you to give Timmy the money I sent every month, but you kept it for yourself. This is your lesson.” Susan fell to her knees, sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Mary. I was just so tempted, and I thought I could get away with it. Please, don’t call the police,” she begged. Her sobs echoed through the store, raw and unfiltered. She clutched at Helen’s skirt, her desperation palpable.
Helen looked at me, and I nodded.She put the phone down, her expression softening. “Alright, I won’t call the police this time, but you need to understand the gravity of what you’ve done,” she said. Susan nodded vigorously, still crying. “I do, and I promise I’ll never do anything like this again.” Her voice was hoarse, and she looked utterly defeated. “From now on, I’ll handle Timmy’s money directly,” I said. “You need to earn back my trust, Susan.”
And that, my friends, is how I taught my daughter-in-law a lesson she won’t soon forget. It was a difficult confrontation, but sometimes tough love is the only way to right a wrong.
