Lucy came through the door, her face pallid and wet with tears. I froze, the sight of her so unexpected and sh0cking that I remained motionless for a time.
My daughter didn’t weep often, and when she did, it wasn’t like this: tears clinging to her lashes, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, her entire body radiating pain.
“Lucy?” I ran to her side and placed my hands on her shoulders. “What happened?”
She didn’t respond straight immediately, instead shook her head and swiped at her cheeks, attempting to put herself together. But I could tell the fight in her was gone, which made my gut churn.
I took her by the shoulders and gently guided her to sit on the couch.
Her hands trembled as she fidgeted with the sleeve of her sweater, and I waited, my pulse racing as I attempted to prepare for whatever had shattered her so completely.
Finally, Lucy looked up at me, her voice just above a whisper. “Mom, she… she wouldn’t pay me.”
I blinked, perplexed. “What do you mean?” Who?”
“Mrs. Carpenter!” Her voice cracked, and new tears welled up in her eyes.
“She said it was a life lesson. ‘You should always get things in writing. Never trust someone’s word!’”
“She said what?” My voice cracked, disbelief giving way to fury.
“She also said that babysitting should have taught me hard work, and that was payment enough. Then she slammed the door in my face, Mom.”
My gut turned as the words set in. “So, she didn’t pay you at all?”
She shakes her head.
My pulse quickened, and heat rose in my chest as Lucy continued.
“And her kids, Mom—” She sniffled, her voice trembling. “They were awful when she wasn’t there. They wouldn’t listen. They threw toys at each other and at me, too! And when I tried to make them do their summer reading, they just laughed and said, ‘Mom says we don’t have to.’”
She wiped her eyes angrily. “I tried so hard. Every day, I was there on time, taking care of everything. And she just smiled like it was some kind of joke. Like it didn’t even matter.”
“Oh, sweetie,” I said, pulling her close. She was 15, trying so hard to be grown-up, but in that moment, she felt like my little girl again. “How much did she owe you?”
“I babysat for four hours each day for five days… so that’s $220.” Lucy sniffled. “I was going to use it for that art course I wanted to take.”
I reached for my purse without hesitation. “Here,” I said, counting out the bills. “You earned this.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Mom, no—
“Yes,” I insisted, pressing the money into her hand. “You worked hard for this. What Mrs. Carpenter did wasn’t a ‘life lesson,’ it was just wrong.”
Lucy shook her head. “But you don’t owe me anything, Mom. She’s the one who broke her word.”
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie.” I leaned in and hugged her. “And this isn’t a freebie. I’m going to have a little chat with Mrs. Carpenter and we’ll settle things between us, okay?”
Lucy raised her eyebrows and nodded.
“Now, why don’t you grab a cookie and watch some TV? I’ll call you for dinner in an hour.”
Cooking has usually helped me relax, but not today. My mind was racing while I cooked dinner. I’d only grown furious by the time I finally put the meal in the oven and set the timer.
Mrs. Carpenter and I had never been close, but we were friendly. She was one of those mothers who proudly wore her “tough love” ideology, always saying that “children these days need to learn things the hard way.”
I’d dismissed her statements previously, but this? This was personal. I couldn’t let her get away with cheating Lucy, but I also couldn’t go over there in a rage and demand payment. That would not work on Mrs. Carpenter.
I needed a more planned strategy.
That night, I hardly slept. I kept thinking about Lucy’s excitement at getting the job.
“My first real job, Mom!” she’d exclaimed. “I’m going to be so responsible, you’ll see. I’m going to do everything right.”
She certainly had. She had arrived early every day, played with the kids, and cleaned up, all for what? To be humiliated by a self-righteous woman who thought she was helping my daughter by defrauding her of her money?
I tossed and turned as I considered the best method to approach Mrs. Carpenter and deal with this situation. By dawn, I had devised a strategy. I’d attack her where it would hurt the most: her reputation.
I rang Mrs. Carpenter’s doorbell at precisely 10 a.m., hoping to convey a nice, almost cheerful attitude. Her eyebrows rose in surprise as she opened the door.
“Rebecca! What brings you by?”
“Oh,” I said, my voice dripping with honey. “I just had to come over and thank you personally.”
She blinked, confused. “Thank me?”
“For the wonderful life lesson you taught Lucy yesterday. You know, about the importance of contracts and trust?”
Mrs. Carpenter’s face relaxed into a smug smile. “Well, yes. I’m glad you understand. Some parents would be upset, but children need to learn—”
“Oh, absolutely,” I cut in. “I’ve been telling everyone about it.”
Her smile faltered slightly. “Everyone?”
I nodded enthusiastically and pulled out my phone. “Oh, the moms’ group has been fascinated. Sarah was just saying this morning how interesting it was that you had a teenage girl work for a week without pay.”
Mrs. Carpenter’s smile faded, but I was not done. I tapped the screen many times before holding it up for her to see. “Here, I’ve posted all about it in the neighborhood Facebook group. You know how everyone loves to stay informed. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yet, the way people have been commenting.”
Her eyes widened as she stared at the screen, the color draining from her face. “Wh-what did you post?”
“Oh, just the truth,” I said sweetly, scrolling down.
“‘Lucy babysat for you, every day for a week, and you decided not to pay her because you wanted to teach her a ‘life lesson.’” I paused, giving her a pleasant smile. “I think it really resonated with people.”
I flipped the phone back over and began reading the comments, speaking as I went. “Melissa from down the street? She called it ‘disgraceful’ and said she’d never trust someone who treats kids like that.”
I scrolled further. “Oh, and Janet from the PTA — you know Janet — she thinks we should bring this up at the next school board meeting. Says it reflects poorly on our community.”
Mrs. Carpenter’s expression changed from arrogant to stark white as I continued, each statement plainly hurting her harder than the last.
“Oh, here’s a good one,” I said, holding the phone out to her again. “‘This is beyond unacceptable! We need to protect our children from people like this. I wouldn’t let her near my kids again.’” I raised my eyebrows. “Looks like you’ve got quite the reputation now.”
She swallowed hard, her voice shaky. “Rebecca, I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” My smile didn’t waver as I kept scrolling. “You were very clear about the ‘lesson’ you wanted to teach. And now everyone knows exactly what kind of… educator you are.”
Her hand shot up, waving weakly at the phone as if she could somehow stop the flood of comments. “But, but… some of the other mothers must agree with me, surely?”
“Let’s see…” I frowned thoughtfully and scrolled through the comments. “It looks like the consensus is that you’re a miser, actually, and a cheat. But don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll blow over. Eventually.”
Mrs. Carpenter grabbed the doorframe, her knuckles white, her gaze darting back and forth as if looking for an exit. “Rebecca, please. You have to delete those posts. I never meant—”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I said breezily. “After all, it’s just a life lesson, right? Sometimes we learn things the hard way.”
I turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and next time you want to teach someone’s child a lesson?” I let my smile widen into a vicious grin, meeting her eyes directly. “Make sure the mother doesn’t bite back.”
That evening, Lucy burst through the front door, waving an envelope. “Mom! Mrs. Carpenter gave me the money! She said there was a misunderstanding about the payment timing.”
I hugged her, breathing in the coconut scent of her shampoo. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart. I’m so glad she fixed her mistake.”
“Here.” She pressed the envelope into my hands. “Since you already paid me, this belongs to you.”
As Lucy dashed upstairs, I smiled to myself.
Some could call what I did petty or useless. But when I heard Lucy’s enthusiastic talk on the phone with her buddy about the course she could now take, I knew I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Sometimes the finest lesson a mother can impart isn’t about being pleasant or taking the high road. It is often necessary to demonstrate to your child that they are important, that their labor is valuable, and that others who attempt to exploit them will face consequences.
