“We are only here because you ate that candy that Mom was saving for Dad, Jacob. Mom told you not to!” I overheard my grandson, Thomas, say to his younger brother.
I stopped mid-step between the fridge and the counter in the kitchen, straining to hear more. My heart sank at the possibility that I’d heard Thomas correctly because that meant that my grandchildren hadn’t really wanted to come here.
Slowly, I walked closer to them, trying to act nonchalant.
“What do you mean by that, sweetheart?” I asked.
Thomas looked up, eyes wide with the fear of being caught.
“Uh, nothing, Grandma,” he said quickly.
“No, really, it’s okay,” I pressed gently, kneeling to their level. “You can tell me anything.”
Thomas glanced at Jacob, who was nervously chewing on his lip while he clutched his toy tightly.
“Well, every time we do something naughty, or we ask for something that we shouldn’t…” Thomas hesitated.
“Yes, go on,” I pressed gently.
“Mom says that she’ll send us to ‘that witch’s house.'”
“That witch?” I repeated, stunned.
My daughter-in-law, Amanda, had never been warm towards me, but to tell the kids such stories? It felt like a knife to the heart. I had always tried to make my home a safe and welcoming place for my grandchildren.
But what was this?
To find out that Amanda was poisoning their minds against me?
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. My heart sank, wondering what my grandchildren thought of me.
“Oh, honey,” I said. “I never wanted you to think of my home as a punishment. If you don’t want to come here, you don’t have to.”
“But we like it here!” Thomas exclaimed quickly. “Mom just told us that we can be cursed here. And isn’t being cursed a bad thing? It’s scary.”
This was too much. This was beyond ridiculous. I could overlook Amanda’s coldness towards me, but involving the kids was a step too far. This had become personal.
I needed a plan to remind Amanda about family values and to truly show her that I wasn’t going to let her undermine my relationship with my grandkids.
The next time the boys came over, I greeted them with a warm smile and an air of mystery.
“Come on, let’s have some pie,” I told them. “But I also have a secret to share with you.”
They looked at me with wide eyes.
“What is it, Grandma?” Jacob asked, his voice full of curiosity.
I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Your mom was right,” I said. “I am a witch.”
Thomas gasped, and Jake’s eyes grew wider.
“But don’t worry,” I added quickly. “I would never hurt you. In fact, I’m going to teach you magic.”
“Really?” Thomas asked, his voice tinged with excitement and a bit of skepticism.
“Yes, really,” I declared, leading them to the living room where I had set up a makeshift wizard’s workshop.
We spent the afternoon watching YouTube tutorials on magic tricks, practicing simple sleight-of-hand, and creating ‘potions’ with food coloring, baking soda, and herbs and spices that I had around the kitchen.
The boys were completely enthralled.
“Grandma, this is so cool!” Jacob exclaimed as his little ‘potion’ fizzed and bubbled.
“I’m glad you think so,” I said, ruffling his hair. “You’re both very talented wizards.”
As the days went on, the boys began to look forward to their visits with me. My son, Brian, phoned me and told me all about it one day.
“I don’t know what you’re doing, Mom,” he said. “But the boys absolutely love being there. They keep asking Amanda or myself to drop them off.”
“I’m so glad, honey,” I said, absentmindedly.
I had already told the boys not to mention anything about our tricks or potion-making to their parents. It wasn’t that I was keeping it a secret or anything. I just wanted to wait for the perfect time to reveal it.
“What do you guys do?” Brian asked curiously.
“We spend time together, and I let them be kids,” I said.
One day just as Amanda came to pick the boys up, they begged their mother to let them stay over for the night.
“No, boys,” she said sternly. “We have an early start tomorrow and I can’t come back to this side of town.”
But the boys continued to whine and plead.
“Oh, I guess you’re being punished by being taken home,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I looked directly at Amanda.
She paled, recognizing my words as her own.
“That’s not what I meant when I said it, Gina,” she stuttered.
“Look, we can have our disagreements, Amanda, but don’t you dare bring the kids into this. And why would you tell them stories about me? That’s completely uncalled for.”
She looked down, guilt and shame washing over her soft features.
“I didn’t realize what I said,” Amanda went on. “I just said it out of anger because the boys were being rowdy.”
“I just want them to feel safe and loved here,” I continued. “Can we agree on that?”
My daughter-in-law nodded, tears brimming in her eyes.
“Yes, of course, Gina. I’m sorry, really.”
“Apology accepted,” I said softly. “But now we need to move forward, for their sake.”
Amanda and I found a tentative peace after that, and the boys’ visits continued without the dark cloud of fear hanging over them. Our time together was filled with laughter and joy, the air of magic making each visit special.
One evening, when the boys were spending the night with me, allowing Brian and Amanda to go on a date night, I tucked them into bed.
“Grandma, are you really a witch?” Jacob asked quietly.
I smiled and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.
“No, my sweet boy,” I said. “I’m not. But magic is real if you believe in it. It’s in the love we share, the fun we have, and the memories we make.”
“I like your kind of magic, Grandma,” Jacob said, half-asleep. “It’s less scary than the curses.”
“I love you both, very much,” I said, turning off the light.
The next morning, as I prepared breakfast, the boys ran into the kitchen, still buzzing with the excitement of their latest “magical” discoveries.
“Grandma, can we make more potions today?” Jacob asked, his eyes roaming around the kitchen to see what I had on the counters.
“Of course,” I laughed. “But first, how about some pancakes?”
As we sat down to eat, there was a knock at the door. Amanda stood there, looking hesitant but hopeful.
“Good morning,” she said softly. “I was hoping to join you for breakfast.”
“Come on in,” I told her. “We’re just about to start.”
As we ate, Amanda watched the boys chatter excitedly about their magical adventures. She smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, as the boys ran off to play outside. “For everything.”
“It’s all for them,” I replied, meeting her gaze. “They deserve to feel loved and happy.”
“And I’m sorry for what I said before,” she said. “I was wrong to make your home seem like the punishment den. It’s far from it. It’s actually warmer and more comfortable than our own.”
In the weeks that followed, Amanda tried harder with me. She tried to bring the boys over as much as possible, always bringing baked treats along with her.
“She’s trying, Mom,” Brian said one day when he came to fetch the boys. “And you can see that she’s excited to come here and spend time with you and the boys. It’s a big deal for her.”
I smiled at my son.
“It’s about time,” I said.
What would you have done?
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.
Source: Amomama
