A Gift with a Bitter Taste: How Grandma Spoiled the Grandchildren’s Birthday
“What shall I get your boys for their birthday?” asked the mother-in-law, sipping her tea unhurriedly. “I’ve been wracking my brains… nothing comes to mind.”
Emily pretended to ponder, though she already knew the answer. Her twins, Oliver and Henry, had been begging for the same gift for months—an expensive, glow-in-the-dark building set. She’d promised they’d get it for their birthday. But after checking the family budget, she knew she couldn’t afford it alone.
“They’ve been asking for this particular set,” she said cautiously.
“Write down the name for me,” her mother-in-law perked up. “I’ll have a look.”
Emily reached for a pen but hesitated.
“It’s quite pricey… Perhaps we could split the cost? So it’s not all on you?”
“You think I can’t manage?” Margaret scoffed. “A hundred pounds won’t break me—don’t worry!”
Emily pressed her lips together. How could she explain that one set cost five hundred pounds? And they needed two—the boys would fight if they had to share.
“Five hundred each…” she murmured.
“A thousand?! For toys?!” Margaret nearly choked. “You’ve spoiled them rotten—it’s beyond reason.”
“They just want what their friends have,” Emily shrugged. “I wouldn’t ask if I could manage it myself.”
After a pause, Margaret sighed with clear reluctance.
“Fine… we’ll split it. But make sure your husband, James, chips in too. That’s fair.”
“Of course,” Emily agreed quickly. “I’ll give you my share. Will you buy them yourself?”
“I will. Just tell me where,” Margaret replied briskly.
Emily handed over the cash, which Margaret pocketed without thanks. She recited the shop’s address and reminded her—again—not to get the wrong ones.
“Yes, yes! No need to lecture me—I’m not deaf!” Margaret snapped before leaving.
Three days later, on the birthday morning, Emily grew anxious. It was already noon, and Margaret hadn’t arrived. Just as she reached for her phone, the doorbell rang.
There stood Margaret, beaming, with two shopping bags. The boys rushed to greet her, cheering. She handed them the boxes, hugged them, and kissed their cheeks.
But when they unwrapped the gifts, Emily froze. These weren’t the right sets—no glow, far simpler, and likely much cheaper. Disappointment flickered across the boys’ faces, though they thanked her politely.
“These aren’t the ones…” Emily whispered. “I told you—”
“But they were half the price!” Margaret declared proudly. “What’s the difference?”
“It mattered to them. Why did you cut corners?”
“Now you’re dictating to me?!” Margaret snapped. “Boys! Hand those back!”
Confused, they obeyed. Their grandmother snatched the boxes, tucked them under her arm, and stormed out, slamming the door.
Emily stood in the hallway, stunned. The boys, unable to hold back, burst into tears.
Five minutes later, a text arrived: “Returning these to the shop. Don’t call.” The money was never returned. Worse, for weeks, Margaret ignored Emily’s calls and her son’s attempts to resolve things.
She reappeared a month later, acting as if nothing had happened. No mention of the gifts—or the money. Emily stayed silent. But from that day on, she vowed—no more purchases through her mother-in-law. Better a modest gift given with love than a grand one tainted by selfishness.
Above all, she’d never let anyone ruin her children’s joy again—no matter the cost.
