Then one day, Ethan came home, sweat dripping from his forehead. His shirt was soaked, and he looked like he’d been running for hours.
“Ethan, what happened?” I asked, walking over to him as he plopped down on the couch.
“Mrs. Johnson asked me to mow her lawn,” he panted. “She said she’d pay me twenty bucks.”
I glanced out the window at Mrs. Johnson’s yard. It was huge, easily the biggest in the neighborhood. Ethan had mowed the entire thing. It looked perfect, lines neat and clean.
“Two days,” Ethan said, wiping his face with his shirt. “It took me two whole days. But she said she’d pay me when I was done.”
I smiled at him, proud. Ethan was a good kid, always looking to help out. He’d been saving up for weeks to buy a food processor for his grandma’s birthday. The twenty dollars would help him get a little closer.
“Did she pay you yet?” I asked, still looking out the window.
“No, but I’m sure she will,” Ethan said, his voice hopeful.
I nodded. Mrs. Johnson might be distant, but stiffing a kid out of twenty bucks? Even she wouldn’t do that. Or so I thought.
A few days passed, and I noticed Ethan was quieter than usual. He wasn’t his usual cheerful self, and it worried me.
“What’s wrong, honey?” I asked one evening as he sat by the window, staring at Mrs. Johnson’s house.
“She hasn’t paid me yet,” he said softly.
I frowned. “Well, have you asked her?”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah, I went over yesterday, but she told me she was busy and to come back later. So I went again today, and she told me… she told me to get lost.”
“What?” I gasped, shocked. “What do you mean ‘get lost’?”
Ethan looked down at his hands, his voice shaking just a little. “She said I should be grateful for the lesson I learned from mowing her lawn. That learning to work hard was the real payment. She said I didn’t need the money.”
My heart dropped, and my anger rose. This woman had tricked my son into doing two days of hard work and then refused to pay him. How dare she?
I clenched my fists, trying to stay calm for his sake, but inside I was boiling. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I’ll take care of it.”
Ethan gave me a small, trusting smile. But inside, I was already planning what I’d do next. Mrs. Johnson might think she was teaching my son a lesson, but she was about to learn one herself.
I sat on the porch the next morning, watching Mrs. Johnson pull out of her driveway, as polished as ever. The decision had been brewing inside me for days, and now, I felt no hesitation.
My son deserved justice, and if Mrs. Johnson wasn’t going to do the right thing, then I’d make sure she learned a lesson of her own. I got to making calls and leaving voice messages.
Around an hour later, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Mark, my old friend from high school, who now ran a small landscaping business. I explained the situation in a quick, hushed tone.
“So, you want me to… trim her hedges into weird shapes?” he chuckled on the other end of the line.
Mrs. Johnson took immense pride in her yard, especially her hedges. Every Saturday morning, without fail, she’d be out there, pruning the bushes with meticulous care.
She had them shaped into perfect, symmetrical forms that gave her house a neat, upscale appearance. To her, those hedges weren’t just plants—they were a statement.
“Exactly. Nothing destructive. Just enough to give them a funny look. She’s proud of that yard, and I want her to notice.”
Mark was quiet for a moment, then laughed again. “You’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll swing by later today.”
Step one of the plan was set. Now, for step two. I grabbed my laptop, found a local mulch delivery service, and called them up, doing my best to mimic Mrs. Johnson’s crisp, no-nonsense tone.
“Hi, this is Katherine Johnson. I need three large truckloads of mulch delivered to my address. Yes, the whole driveway. Thank you.”
I hung up, feeling a strange thrill. My heart pounded in my chest. Was I really doing this?
Yes. Yes, I was.
Then, I left a few messages for my neighbors. While asking for small favors, I made sure to casually mention what Mrs. Johnson had done to Ethan.
Later that afternoon, three giant trucks rolled up and began unloading piles of mulch onto Mrs. Johnson’s driveway. I watched from my porch as the workers carefully emptied their loads, blocking her entire driveway with massive mounds of dark brown mulch. There was no way she was getting her car in tonight.
By then, the neighborhood had started to buzz. I saw a few of the neighbors peeking through their windows, whispering to each other. Word had gotten around about what Mrs. Johnson had done to Ethan, and now, they were seeing my revenge unfold right in front of them.
I could feel the tension building. Everyone was waiting for Mrs. Johnson to come home. So was I.
At around 6:30 p.m., her shiny black car turned the corner and pulled onto our street. As soon as she saw the mulch, her car screeched to a halt. She sat there for a moment, probably in shock. Then she slowly rolled forward, coming to a stop in front of the pile blocking her driveway.
I leaned back in my chair, sipping my tea, and waited.
Mrs. Johnson got out of the car, her face a mix of confusion and anger. She marched over to the hedges first, staring at the strange shapes they’d been trimmed into. She ran her hands through her perfectly styled hair and pulled out her phone, probably to call someone to fix it.
A few of the neighbors had gathered across the street, pretending to chat, but really watching her reaction. They exchanged quiet laughs and glances. Mrs. Johnson looked around, realizing she was being watched, and her eyes landed on me.
She stormed across the street, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement.
“Did you do this?” she snapped, her voice tight with rage.
I smiled, taking another sip of my tea. “Me? I don’t know anything about landscaping or mulch deliveries.”
Her face turned bright red. “This is unacceptable! You think this is funny?”
I set down my cup and stood up, meeting her gaze. “Not as funny as stiffing a 12-year-old out of twenty dollars.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She knew exactly what I was talking about.
“Maybe it’s just the universe teaching you a lesson,” I said, my tone sharp. “Hard work is its own reward, right?”
Mrs. Johnson clenched her jaw, her eyes darting from me to the piles of mulch and then back to the small crowd of neighbors now openly watching. She was trapped. She couldn’t argue with me without looking worse in front of the whole street.
“Fine,” she spat, turning on her heel and stomping into her house. A minute later, she reappeared with a crumpled twenty-dollar bill in her hand.
She shoved it at me, but I didn’t take it. “Give it to Ethan,” I said, stepping aside.
She shot me one last glare, then walked over to where Ethan stood at the edge of the yard. “Here,” she muttered, shoving the bill at him.
Ethan took the money, eyes wide with surprise. “Uh, thanks.”
Mrs. Johnson didn’t say another word as she hurried back to her car. She fumbled with her phone, probably trying to call someone to remove the mulch blocking her driveway. But I wasn’t worried about that. My job was done.
Ethan smiled so wide, I thought his face might split in two.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, beaming.
“Don’t thank me,” I said, ruffling his hair. “You earned it.”
Mrs. Johnson never asked Ethan for help again. And every time she passed the neighbors, I could see the embarrassment in her eyes. Her hedges grew back, and the mulch eventually disappeared, but the story of how she learned a lesson about honesty and hard work stayed with the neighborhood.
Sometimes, the people who seem the most put-together are the ones who need a good reminder that you don’t mess with a mother protecting her son.
A mother sold her old stroller to feed her four children, only to find it returned to her doorstep the next day with a note inside
A pregnant mother of three needs to sell her stroller to feed her three children after she was abandoned by her husband.
Anne Sargent sat on her kitchen floor and cried. It was past midnight, and it was the only time she could allow herself to show her pain — when her three children were asleep upstairs.
Anne felt the baby move and placed a tender hand on her belly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to her unborn child. “I’m doing my best, but it’s just not good enough…”
Just two months ago, Anne had been a radially happy wife and mother, confidently expecting the birth of her fourth child, and confident in her place in the world and her husband’s love. That woman was gone.
Derek had come home one night and told her he was leaving, just like that. “But why?” asked Anne. “I don’t understand, I thought we were happy!”
“YOU were happy!” Derek cried. “YOU, not me! All you did was have babies and fuss over them, now there’s one more on the way!”
“But you WANTED children!” Anne protested. “You were happy every time I was pregnant…”
A family is built on understanding and mutual respect.
“Happy?” screamed Derek. “Happy that you gave all your love and attention to the kids? All I was to you was a paycheck! Well, that’s OVER!”
So three months after Anne announced her fourth pregnancy, Derek was gone. Anne immediately went out and found herself a part-time job at a local grocery store.
The owner would have been willing to give her a full-time job, but for that, Anne would have needed to pay a sitter for her three boys and that would have consumed most of her salary, so she carefully stretched her salary. But even with the child support check Derek sent, it just wasn’t enough.
Anne started selling some antique china she’d inherited from her grandmother and that paid for the utilities for a few months. Then she sold a silver brush-and-mirror set she’d had since she was a little girl, and that paid for groceries. Little by little, as her belly grew, Anne sold her treasures to keep her family safe and fed.
Then one day, there was nothing left to sell except bric-a-brac. Anything of greater value was gone. Anne looked at the old stroller she’d brought up from the cellar.
It had been hers when she was a baby and had been used by each of her children in turn. It was very old, probably from the sixties, but it was in mint condition.
She ran her hand over the roses painted on the side and bit back her tears. She needed it for the new baby, but she needed the money even more.
She thought about getting a good price for it down at the flea market. Vintage items were always popular… And so she took the stroller to the flea market, and one of the dealers gave her $50 for it. Not much at all, but every cent helped.
Anne walked away, sure she’d never see the stroller again, but she was wrong. Two days later, she opened the front door and saw the stroller on the porch!
There was an envelope inside and Anne opened it and read: “Please call me.” The message was followed by a phone number. Anne called the number ad a woman answered her.
“Hello?” Anne said. “Are you the person who left the stroller? How did you know who it belonged to and where I live?”
“Derek told me,” the woman on the other side said. “I’m Grace Robbs. I think we should meet.”
An hour later, Grace was sitting on Anne’s sofa sipping tea. She was a pretty woman, six or seven years younger than Anne, and she looked very unhappy. Her pale skin was blotched and her eyes were swollen as if she’d been crying.
“How do you know Derek,” Anne asked, even though in her heart she already knew the answer.
“I was his girlfriend,” Grace said.
“Was?” asked Anne. “You broke up?”
“Today, as a matter of fact,” Grace said and started crying. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know about you or the children, or the baby… I found out I was pregnant, and I didn’t know how to tell him…”
“So I went to the flea market with a friend and saw this darling stroller and I bought it. I put it in the middle of the lounge and tied balloons to it with a message: ‘Hello Dad!’”
“But he wasn’t happy like I thought he’d be. He started screaming and asking where II got the stroller and if his stupid wife had given it to me. He asked if it was a joke.”
“He told me to take it right back, that he didn’t want to know about your baby. So I told him: ‘It’s for OUR baby.’ and that’s when he went crazy.”
“He accused me of wanting to trap him and said he already had three brats with you and one more on the way, and he didn’t want my baby. He told me to get out and come to you.”
“He said: ‘Might as well have all the breeding cows under the same roof.’ I’m so sorry, I didn’t know about you, I guess I didn’t know him at all!”
Anne got up and put her arm around the crying girl. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.”
“He’s kicked me out,” Grace said quietly. “I have no family here and nowhere to go. I have a job, but with the rents in this city, I can’t afford to live alone, and who is going to want a pregnant roommate?”
“I will!” Anne said firmly. “I need a tenant because what I earn isn’t enough, and I can’t work full-time because I can’t afford a babysitter for after school.”
“But…” Grace’s face lit up. “I work online! I can take care of the kids after school. I love kids!”
“So I can take a full-time job?” asked Anne, delighted. “The owner of the grocery store wants me to manage it for him. With your help, I can! And you don’t have to worry about stuff for the baby. After three kids I have enough for an army.”
Grace smiled through her tears. “And we have the stroller too…” she pointed out. “Are you sure? It’s Derek’s baby…”
“No,” Anne shook her head. “It’s YOUR baby, and my children’s sibling, that is all that matters.”
The two women settled into a new life together, and when Anne’s baby was born, Grace was there. When it was Grace’s turn four months later, Anne held her hand. They became a real family and raised their five children together.
As for Derek, he had several failed relationships and eventually came knocking on Anne’s door. He was shocked when he saw Grace there and asked to speak to Anne. “What do you want, Derek?” Anne asked.
“I miss you, babe…” Derek said.
Anne stared at him for a long moment then said, “Sorry, so not interested!” And she closed the door in his face.
What can we learn from this story?
If we work together, we can overcome any problem. Anne and Grace couldn’t survive alone, but together they were an unbeatable team.
A family is built on understanding and mutual respect. Anne and Grace forged a family out of their friendship and mutual support.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
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