When my daughter-in-law asked me to babysit for the weekend, I thought it would be simple: hugs, cookie crumbs, maybe a sweet little thank-you. What I didn’t expect was to find a handwritten bill waiting for me on the kitchen counter—for using things around the house! I was shocked. Then I got mad. And then…I came up with the perfect way to get back at her.
It all started when I was outside refilling the hummingbird feeder, my hands sticky from sugar water. That’s when I got a text from Brittany, my daughter-in-law.
“Hey, would you mind watching Noah this weekend? Ethan has a work retreat and I’m going on a spa trip with my sister.”
I blinked at the screen. Honestly, I was surprised. Brittany and I never really clicked. She’s always been a bit cold, and ever since Noah was born, she’s been complaining about “over-involved grandparents.” Her idea of “boundaries” reminded me of the Berlin Wall—tall, solid, and not meant to be crossed.
Still, I love my grandson more than anything. Every second with Noah is a treasure. That little “grahma” squeal he makes melts my heart every time.
So I replied right away:
“Of course.”
She wrote back:
“Everything you need will be ready. Just relax and enjoy time with him!”
I smiled. I was already planning all the fun things we’d do. Noah had just discovered sprinkles, and I figured we’d bake cookies together. Most of the sprinkles would probably end up on the floor—but that’s part of the fun.
But when I showed up Friday afternoon, the house looked like a toddler had thrown a wild party and forgotten to clean up.
Toys were everywhere. I had to carefully step over plastic dinosaurs and tiny shoes just to make it through the living room. The kitchen sink was full of dishes, and a dirty pan sat in cold, greasy water on the stove.
Then, from around the corner, I heard it:
“Grahma!”
Noah came running at full speed, his diaper sagging and arms wide open.
I picked him up, my annoyance disappearing as he planted a big, wet kiss on my cheek.
Just then, Brittany came walking down the hall, pulling a suitcase behind her.
“Hey, Abby! Thanks for coming,” she said, sounding way too cheerful. “There’s food in the fridge, Noah’s stuff is in his room, and I’m sure you’ll figure everything out.”
She bent down to kiss Noah, already heading out the door.
“Be good for Grandma, sweetie! Mommy will be back soon!”
As the door closed, Noah looked up at me with those big blue eyes.
“Mommy go bye-bye?”
I smiled and held him close. “She’s going on a trip, sweetie. But guess what? You and I get to have a super special weekend together.”
He gave a serious little nod and ran off to show me a toy car.
After he was busy with his blocks, I wandered into the kitchen to make coffee.
That’s when I realized Brittany’s version of “everything you need” was very different from mine.
There were only half a dozen eggs, no bread, and nothing you could call a real meal. I opened the milk and sniffed—borderline.
I muttered under my breath, “Seriously? This is it?”
And that’s when I remembered Noah’s diaper. It had looked really full.
I took him to his room and opened the changing drawer. My jaw dropped. Only five diapers. No wipes. Not one!
That was it. Now I was officially annoyed.
I handed Noah a toy car and said, “Stay here, sweetheart. Grahma needs to fix this.”
I rushed to the bathroom, grabbed a lavender-colored washcloth—definitely Brittany’s—and used it as a wipe. Then I changed Noah, gave him a smile, and said,
“Looks like we’ll be doing laundry, buddy. But first—we’re going to the store!”
“Store!” he shouted with excitement.
We got into the car and drove off. $68 later, we returned with wipes, diapers, groceries, and a small stuffed elephant that Noah hugged like it was his best friend.
“We make cookies?” he asked, eyes wide with hope.
I chuckled. “Tomorrow, sweetheart. Tonight, let’s clean up and make some dinner.”
And from there, the weekend turned into a beautiful blur.
We played at the park, swinging so high the wind turned our cheeks pink.
“Higher, Grahma!”
“Not too high,” I warned, but gave a little push anyway that sent him giggling and shouting.
We baked sugar cookies. Noah tried to crack the eggs. The first one missed the bowl entirely and splattered all over the counter.
“Oopsie,” he said, looking at me with big, guilty eyes.
I laughed. “Good thing we bought extra eggs! Try again, honey. Practice makes perfect.”
We watched Finding Nemo under a cozy blanket. Noah whispered along to the parts he knew.
Every night, I tucked him into bed with three stories and five kisses.
After he fell asleep, I didn’t rest. I cleaned the house—washed the dishes, did laundry, wiped every counter. I even cooked a casserole for Brittany to enjoy when she got back.
By Sunday night, I was exhausted. My feet ached, but my heart was full.
Noah had given me the sweetest weekend—full of giggles, cuddles, and memories.
But then Monday morning arrived.
I went into the kitchen, the sun just starting to peek through the windows. That’s when I noticed it: a folded piece of paper pinned under a coffee mug. My name was on it in pink ink, the handwriting loopy and cute.
I smiled, expecting a thank-you.
But when I unfolded it, my jaw dropped.
It was a bill. A list of “expenses” I had supposedly used while staying there:
- Eggs: $8
- Water bottles: $3
- Electricity: $12
- Toilet paper: $3
- Laundry detergent: $5
- Toothpaste: $4
TOTAL: $40
And at the bottom?
“Please Venmo by Friday. Thanks!! ❤️”
I stared at it. Then I laughed. Then I got furious.
Just then, the front door opened.
“Abby? I’m home,” Brittany called.
I could’ve yelled. But I knew if I said anything right then, I’d lose my temper completely.
So instead, I crumpled the note in my fist, put on my sweetest smile, and stepped into the hallway.
“Hi, Brittany. I didn’t expect you back so early.”
She just shrugged. “How was everything?”
“Wonderful,” I said honestly. “Noah is a joy.”
“Thanks for helping,” she replied, already scrolling on her phone. “Ethan should be home around noon.”
I gathered my things, kissed Noah goodbye, and left. And as I drove home, I started planning my revenge.
The second I got home, I opened my laptop and started typing. All the years I spent raising Ethan—the love, the laundry, the meals—I turned it into a real invoice.
Grandmother Services – Est. 1993
Raising One Fine Husband Since Day One
- Feeding Ethan for 18 years: 19,710 meals @ $5 each = $98,550
- Laundry: 3 loads/week x 52 weeks x 18 years @ $5/load = $14,040
- Medical co-pays: 12 years of visits @ $25 each = $3,600
- Driving: 9,000 miles @ $0.58/mile = $5,220
- Breakup counseling: 15 hours @ $75/hour = $1,125
- Tutoring & life advice: 500 hours @ $30/hour = $15,000
- Emotional support: 18 years @ $10/day = $65,700
Subtotal: $203,235
Family Discount: -$203,195
Total Due: $40
At the bottom, I wrote:
“Please deduct your original ‘invoice’ from this amount. ❤️ Thanks for understanding!!”
I printed it on my nicest linen paper, folded it into a gold-trimmed envelope, and dropped it in Brittany’s mailbox the next morning.
An hour later, my phone rang.
“Mom?” Ethan’s voice was full of suppressed laughter.
“Yes, dear?”
“What did you do?”
“Whatever do you mean?” I sipped my tea.
“Brittany is… upset. She showed me your invoice.”
“Oh?” I said calmly.
“I told her she deserved it. I had no idea she tried to bill you for using stuff in our house, Mom.”
Relief washed over me.
“I didn’t mean to stir up trouble.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Ethan said. “We’ve been talking a lot about family expectations. This just brought it all to a head.”
“Well,” I said, “I did raise you to stand your ground.”
“You sure did. And Mom?”
“Yes?”
“That was some invoice.”
A week later, life moved on. I was out in the garden, digging in the soil, when my phone buzzed.
It was a Venmo notification.
$40 from Brittany
“To settle my debt. Please don’t charge me interest 😂”
I laughed so loud, the neighbor’s cat jumped off the fence.
That evening, I did what a real grandma does—I donated the $40 to the children’s hospital, in Noah’s name.
Because you don’t fight pettiness with more pettiness.
You fight it with kindness, glitter, and a perfectly calculated spreadsheet.
