Jean’s face flushed, and she shifted awkwardly on her feet. “Oh, don’t exaggerate, Abby,” she said, her tone dismissive.
“They were eager to help. And why not? A little hard work never hurt anyone.
“Responsibility? Discipline?” My voice rose, trembling with rage. “They’re children, Jean!
They’re supposed to be playing, laughing, being kids—not breaking their backs in your garden! How could you think this was okay?”
Jean threw up her hands, her voice defensive now. “They need to learn that life isn’t all fun and games!
You’re raising them to be spoiled, Abby. I was just trying to help!”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I couldn’t let my anger consume me, not in front of the kids.
But I needed answers. “Jean,” I said, my voice low and controlled, “where’s the $1,000 I gave you for groceries and activities?”
She hesitated, her gaze darting toward the ground. “Oh, I didn’t need to use it for groceries,” she said, forcing a casual shrug.
“The kids didn’t need all that food. And I thought… I thought I could use the money for… other things.”Continue reading…
