Being a parent to a cocky, disrespectful teenager is far from easy, and different parents have different approaches to getting their children to behave.
One mom, Heidi Johnson, wrote a handwritten letter to her son, Aaron, and shared it on Facebook. She didn’t intend for the post to go viral. She didn’t even intend to make the post public. It was supposed to just be for friends to see, but she does not regret her post or the fact that it’s public.
In the letter to her 13-year-old son, Johnson reprimanded her son treating her like a “roommate.” She went on to give him an itemized bill for rent, food, etc that totaled over $700. If he was going to treat her like a roommate instead of his mom, she would do the same.
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I Was Just a Caregiver for an Elderly Lady Until She Revealed Her Plan to Rewrite the Will — Story of the Day
I thought I was just a caregiver for Mrs. Blackwood, a sharp-tongued, secretive woman, until her plan to rewrite the will in my favor, cutting out her children, pulled me into a storm of family secrets.
I was young, unemployed, and full of doubts. A nursing diploma in hand but no job prospects. Higher education in the city felt like a cruel joke. Weeks of failed interviews left me restless, staring at a bleak future.
Then, a small ad in the paper caught my eye:
“Nanny needed for an elderly lady who cannot walk. Live-in position.”
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It felt like a lifeline. So, I headed to the interview.
When I arrived at the grand, slightly weathered house, the door was opened by a young man, perhaps in his early twenties.
“You must be here for the nanny position,” he said with a polite smile. “I’m Edward.”
Before I could respond, a young woman appeared behind him.
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“And I’m Emily. Grandma’s expecting you,” she added, her tone friendly but distant, as if this was a routine chore she wanted to get over with.
They were kind enough to show me inside, but it looked as though they were obligated to be welcoming.
“Grandma’s upstairs,” Edward said as he gestured toward the staircase. “We’ll let her take it from here.”
They disappeared down the hall, leaving me with the distinct impression that they were more like housemates than attentive grandchildren.
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Mrs. Blackwood greeted me with a smile that radiated confidence. She was in bed, but everything about her said she was in control. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, her nails polished, and her laughter surprisingly hearty.
“Ah, you must Mia,” she said, her voice warm and commanding. “Come in, dear. Sit down.”
I hesitated for a moment. She didn’t match the frail, helpless image I’d expected.
“Don’t just stand there,” she teased, patting the edge of the bed. “Sit! Have a doughnut. No one should face the world hungry.”
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“Thank you,” I replied, cautiously picking one from the plate on her nightstand.
Her eyes sparkled as she watched me as if she already knew my life story.
“So, tell me,” she began, leaning back slightly, “why do you want this job?”
“I need it. And I believe I can help you,” I said, trying not to overshare.
She nodded. “Honesty. That’s rare these days. Well, Mia, welcome aboard.”
That’s how my life in Lady Blackwood’s house began.
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The first few days were uneventful. I followed her routine, listened to her endless stories, and thought maybe this would be simple. But then, the strangeness began.
One morning, a book from the shelf moved beside her bed.
“Did you read this last night, Mrs. Blackwood?” I asked, holding up the book.
“I don’t sleepwalk, dear,” she replied, her lips twitching with amusement.
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Then there was the curtain. I distinctly remembered leaving it open, but it was drawn when I returned. And the flowers… They were freshly watered when I hadn’t touched them.
“Are your grandchildren coming to kiss good night?” I asked one morning, trying to sound casual.
“Oh no,” she said with a small laugh. “Edward and Emily have been living here since their parents gone, but they rarely bother to check on me before bed.”
“But… someone’s moving things,” I pressed.
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“They’ll come when the will is read,” she added, missing my comments.
Her words hung in the air like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Something was off, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mrs. Blackwood was hiding something from everyone, including her grandchildren.
***
Each new day in the Blackwood household seemed to unravel more mysteries. I decided to make a few changes to Mrs. Blackwood’s routine, not only to make her life more comfortable but also to create a sense of normalcy in the house. Instead of letting her eat alone in her room, I began setting the table in the living room.
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“There’s something special about a proper dinner table,” I said, adjusting the silverware. “It feels more… lively, don’t you think?”
Mrs. Blackwood raised an eyebrow, but a faint smile tugged at her lips.
“You’re full of ideas, aren’t you, Mia?”
“And you’re going to love this one,” I said with a wink, pushing her wheelchair closer to the table.
I covered her with a soft blanket and tucked a pillow behind her back for support.
Edward and Emily weren’t as enthusiastic about the change. The first night, they entered the room with wide eyes, as though they had stumbled into a completely foreign world.
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“What’s this?” Emily asked, frowning at the neatly set table.
“Dinner,” I replied cheerfully. “It’s nice to eat together, don’t you think?”
Edward hesitated. “But Grandma always eats in her room.”
“Well, not anymore,” I said firmly, pulling out a chair for him. “She deserves company, don’t you agree?”
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They exchanged a look, clearly uncomfortable, but sat down anyway.
Later, I introduced the idea of reading nights twice a week.
“It’s simple,” I explained one evening. “We’ll each take turns reading a chapter aloud. Then we can discuss the plot. It’ll be fun, and it’ll give us all something to share.”
Mrs. Blackwood seemed to enjoy it, her laughter often punctuating the room as we stumbled through old classics and lighthearted tales.
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But after a few weeks, Edward and Emily began to find excuses to skip. Their absences became more frequent until it was just Mrs. Blackwood and me at the table.
One evening, the four of us gathered for the dinner.
“I’m glad you both joined us tonight,” Mrs. Blackwood began, her voice smooth and warm.
Edward glanced at Emily. “Actually, Grandma, there’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”
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Emily jumped in before he could finish. “We’ve been thinking… It’s probably best for all of us if Edward and I move out. You’ll still have Mia here to take care of you, of course.”
Mrs. Blackwood tilted her head. “Moved out? Where would you go?”
“We found a place downtown,” Edward explained quickly. “But, um, we’ll need a little help with the deposit and rent.”
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For a moment, silence hung over the table. Then Mrs. Blackwood gave a slow, deliberate smile that made both Edward and Emily sit up straighter.
“Well, isn’t that convenient,” she said, her voice light but laced with something sharp. “Since we’re all sharing news, I have some of my own.”
Edward frowned. “What news?”
Mrs. Blackwood leaned forward slightly, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
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“Next week, my lawyer will be visiting to make some changes to my will.”
Emily froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Changes?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Blackwood replied. “You see, I’ve decided that everything will go to Mia.”
“You’re joking!” Emily exclaimed.
“Oh, I’m quite serious,” Mrs. Blackwood said, her voice calm. “Mia has shown me the kind of care and respect I haven’t seen from either of you in years. She’s earned it.”
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“But we’re your grandchildren!” Edward burst out.
“Then perhaps you should start acting like it,” Mrs. Blackwood retorted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe dinner is getting cold.”
***
Overnight, Edward’s and Emily’s behavior changed in the most absurd ways. Suddenly, they became the epitome of devoted grandchildren, vying for her attention. That was as entertaining as it was ridiculous.
One morning, I walked into the living room to find Edward arranging a vase of bright tulips on the table.
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“Flowers for you, Grandma,” he said, his tone overly cheerful. “I remember how much you love tulips.”
Mrs. Blackwood glanced at the flowers, unimpressed. “Do you? That’s interesting because I prefer orchids.”
Emily, not to be outdone, burst in a moment later carrying a tray with tea and biscuits.
“Breakfast in the living room today, Grandma! I thought you’d enjoy a change of scenery.”
Mrs. Blackwood raised an eyebrow, sipping the tea. “Well, aren’t you two just angels,” she said dryly. “Too bad you didn’t think of this sooner.”
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They were relentless. Their efforts to win her over bordered on comical. Meanwhile, I barely had to lift a finger.
But despite their over-the-top efforts, Mrs. Blackwood remained firm. One evening, after a particularly extravagant dinner prepared by Emily, she announced:
“My decision is final. No amount of flowers or fancy meals will change it.”
The smiles disappeared, replaced by hushed conversations behind closed doors.
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The next day, Edward approached me.
“We’ve decided that your services are no longer needed. We can manage taking care of Grandma ourselves.”
It was clear his words were rehearsed, but the tension in his voice betrayed the real motive.
“Alright,” I said finally. “I’ll pack my things.”
As I turned to leave, Mrs. Blackwood called me to her room. She handed me an envelope stuffed with cash.
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“It’s time for you to act. Rent a car, park it near the house at midnight, and wait in the garden when the lights go out. Be ready for anything.”
I stared at her, startled. “But what’s going to happen?”
She smiled. “Just trust me. You’ll see soon enough.”
***
I rented the jeep, just as Mrs. Blackwood had instructed. The following night, I drove toward her house and parked the jeep a few streets away, keeping it hidden under the shadows of tall trees.
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Taking a deep breath, I got out and crept into the garden, crouching behind the hedge where I had a clear view of the house. Time felt elastic, stretching endlessly as I waited for her signal.
Then, all at once, the lights in the house went out.
My pulse quickened. I fixed my eyes on the windows, every muscle in my body tense. The darkness seemed alive, moving with shadows that weren’t there a moment ago.
Suddenly, the back door creaked open, and a figure in a black cloak emerged. It turned, the face illuminated by the moonlight.
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“Mrs. Blackwood?” I whispered, unsure if it could really be her.
“Come,” she whispered, moving with a speed and confidence that shocked me.
I hurried after her, struggling to keep up as she navigated the garden like someone half her age. When we reached the jeep, she slid into the driver’s seat without hesitation.
“Wait… you can drive?” I stammered, stunned.
“Of course,” she replied, her tone tinged with amusement. “Did you think I spent all my time in bed for fun?”
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As she expertly maneuvered the jeep, she explained everything. The shifting objects, the carefully timed moments of helplessness—it had all been part of her plan.
“My grandchildren have spent their lives waiting for something they didn’t earn. You, Mia, showed me what true care and effort look like. It’s time they learn to stand on their own.”
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***
True to her word, Mrs. Blackwood rewrote her will, leaving nothing to her grandchildren. Instead, she rewarded me generously and donated the rest to charity. Her grandchildren were given a choice: start earning their way or leave without support. Surprisingly, they chose to change.
As for me, I found a place to live and returned to my hospital internship, armed with glowing recommendations from Mrs. Blackwood. That adventure gifted me with an extraordinary friendship with Mrs. Blackwood, who taught me the true value of self-worth.
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