The moment I walked through the door after my business trip, I knew something was wrong. My house felt different—cold and unfamiliar. Then I saw it: a note from my mother-in-law Marsha next to the $200 emergency cash I’d left.
*”You owe me $3,360 for babysitting Liam this week. Nannies get $20/hour.”*
My hands shook as I read those words. This wasn’t some stranger—this was Liam’s grandmother. When I confronted her, her response chilled me: “I did the work. I deserve to be paid.”
So I gave her exactly what she asked for.
The next time Marsha came over, I handed her an envelope with her “salary.” From that day forward, she was “Miss Marsha” to Liam—not Nana. No more family dinners. No more Sunday visits. Just a professional relationship, exactly how she wanted it.
The change devastated her. On her birthday, when there was no celebration, no cake, she showed up at our door in tears. “I was wrong,” she whispered. “I miss being his grandmother.”
That night, we rebuilt what money had nearly destroyed. Now when Liam shouts “Nana!” and runs into her arms, I see the lesson we both learned: some things are too precious to put a price on.
