In the kitchen, I paused midstep between the refrigerator and the counter, listening for additional sound. The thought that I could have heard Thomas right made my heart sink, for it meant that my grandchildren hadn’t truly wanted to come here.
I moved toward them slowly while attempting to appear unconcerned.
“What do you mean by that, sweetheart?” I enquired.
Thomas raised his head, his eyes wide with dread at being discovered.
He said, “Uh, nothing, Grandma,” somewhat abruptly.
“No, really, it’s okay,” I kneeled down to their level and softly pressed. “You can tell me anything.”
Thomas looked at Jacob, who was holding his toy tightly and nibbling uncomfortably on his lip.
“Well, every time we do something naughty, or we ask for something that we shouldn’t…” Thomas paused.
“Sure, go ahead,” I softly prodded.
“Mom says that she’ll send us to ‘that witch’s house.’”
“That witch?” Stunned, I repeated.
Amanda, my daughter-in-law, had never shown me any affection, but to tell the children these kinds of tales? It was as sharp as a knife to the chest. My goal has always been to provide my grandchildren with a secure and warm environment in my house.
However, what was this?
to learn that Amanda was influencing people’s perceptions to be against me?
Taking a deep breath, I tried to control my voice. I wondered what my grandchildren thought of me, and my heart fell.
Oh, honey, I said. “I never intended for you to view my house as a source of punishment. You are under no obligation to come here if you do not choose to.”
“But we like it here!” Thomas blurted out. “Mom just warned us that this place may be cursed. And isn’t it a horrible thing to be cursed? It’s awful.”
This was excessive. This was just too absurd. Amanda’s coldness toward me was tolerable, but bringing the kids into it was too much. This was starting to get personal.
I needed a strategy to genuinely demonstrate to Amanda that I wouldn’t allow her to sabotage my relationship with my grandchildren and to remind her of the importance of family values.
I greeted the boys with a pleasant grin and an air of mystery the following time they came around.
I said to them, “Come on, let’s have some pie.” “But I also have a secret to share with you.”
Their huge eyes regarded me.
“What is it, Grandma?” With a tone full of wonder, Jacob asked.
I dropped my voice to a whisper of conspiracy.
“Your mom was right,” I remarked. “I am a witch.”
Jake’s eyes widened, and Thomas let out a cry.
“But don’t worry,” I hurriedly said. “Never would I injure you. I’m going to teach you magic, in fact.”
“Really?” With a hint of suspicion mixed with eagerness, Thomas questioned.
“Yes, really,” I said, guiding them to my makeshift wizard’s workshop in the living room.
We practiced basic sleight-of-hand, watched magic trick YouTube tutorials, and made “potions” out of baking soda, food coloring, and various plants and spices I had lying around the kitchen.
The boys were totally captivated.
“Grandma, this is so cool!” A little ‘potion’ fizzed and bubbled, and Jacob exclaimed.
I gave him a little ruffle and remarked, “I’m glad you think so.” “You’re both very talented wizards.”
The boys started to look forward to seeing me as the days went by. One day, my son Brian called and told me everything.
“I don’t know what you’re doing, Mom,” he replied. “However, the boys adore being there. They are constantly requesting that Amanda or I drop them off.”
With a distracted grin, I responded, “I’m so glad, honey.”
I had already instructed the boys to keep our trickery and potion-making secret from their parents. Not that I was hiding anything from you or anything. I simply wanted to hold off on revealing it till the ideal moment.
“What do you guys do?” Curious, Brian asked.
“We spend time together, and I let them be kids,” I replied.
The boys begged their mother to let them spend the night one day, right before Amanda arrived to pick them up.
“No, boys,” she harshly remarked. “We have an early start tomorrow, and I can’t come back to this side of town.”
The lads persisted in their cries and pleas, though.
With a sarcastic tone, I responded, “Oh, I guess you’re being punished by being taken home,” staring at Amanda.
My words were recognized as her own, and she paled.
“Gina, that wasn’t my intention when I said that,” she stumbled.
“Look, Amanda, we may argue, but don’t you dare involve the children in this. Why would you regale them with tales about me, too? That is completely inappropriate.”
With a look of humiliation and guilt covering her delicate features, she looked down.
“I didn’t realize what I said,” Amanda continued. “I just said it out of anger because the boys were being rowdy.”
“It’s just that I want them to feel loved and safe here,” I said. “Can we agree on that?”
My daughter-in-law nodded, her eyes full of tears.
“Of course, Gina, I agree. Really, I apologize.”
“I accept your apology,” I quietly said. “But now we need to move forward, for their sake.”
After that, Amanda and I experienced a momentary calm, and the boys’ visits didn’t have the ominous anxiety hovering over them. We had a great time laughing and enjoying each other’s company, with a certain charm surrounding every visit.
I put the boys to bed one evening so that Brian and Amanda could have a date night. The boys were staying the night with me.
“Grandma, are you really a witch?” Quietly, Jacob enquired.
Grinning, I swept a lock of hair from his brow.
“No, my dear son,” I replied. “I’m not. However, if you believe in magic, it exists. It’s found in our shared affection, our enjoyment, and the memories we create.”
Jacob, who was half sleeping, remarked, “Grandma, I like your kind of magic.” “It’s less scary than the curses.”
I turned out the light and added, “I love you both, very much.”
Still buzzing by their newest “magical” discoveries, the boys ran into the kitchen as I was preparing breakfast the following morning.
“Grandma, can we make more potions today?” With his eyes darting around the kitchen to see what I had on the counters, Jacob inquired.
“Obviously,” I chuckled. “But first, how about some pancakes?”
There was a tap on the door as we were getting ready to dine. Amanda stood there, cautious yet full of hope.
She murmured, “Good morning,” quietly. “I was hoping to join you for breakfast.”
“Please enter,” I said to her. “We’re just about to start.”
Amanda heard the boys talking eagerly about their fantastic exploits as we were eating. With a true warmth in her eyes that I had not noticed before, she smiled.
She murmured, “Thank you,” as the boys went off to play outside. “For everything.”
“It’s all for them,” I looked back at her. “They deserve to feel loved and happy.”
“And I’m sorry for what I said before,” she replied. “I made the mistake of portraying your house as a punishment den. Not at all. In actuality, it’s cozier and warmer than ours.”
Amanda made an effort to communicate with me more in the ensuing weeks. Whenever she could, she would try to invite the guys over and would always bring baked goods.
Brian once commented, “She’s trying, Mom,” when he arrived to get the boys. She seemed eager to visit and spend time with you and the boys, as you can see. It means a lot to her.
I gave my son a smile.
“It’s about time,” I declared.
How would you have responded in that situation?
