Finding the hidden camera tucked under my bathtub was terrifying, and realizing my son had put it there was even worse. But his tearful explanation made me realize he was on a mission to reawaken a part of me I thought was lost forever.
The jigsaw puzzle on our kitchen table had stayed the same for weeks, and I was getting worried. My son, Drake, and I used to love them, but things were much different now.
A puzzle on a table | Source: Pexels
These days, he would rush straight to his room after school and shut the door firmly behind him. That is… after coming home later than usual.
I stirred the pasta sauce and checked my phone again: 6:45 p.m. Two hours late, just like yesterday. Through the kitchen window, I watched our neighbors walking their dogs and laughing together.
Our house used to buzz with that kind of energy. Now it felt like Drake and I were living in separate worlds, connected only by quick hellos and leftover dinners. Did this happen to all pre-teens?
A woman concerned | Source: Pexels
A few minutes later, the front door creaked open.
“Hey, Mom.” Drake’s voice floated through the hallway, followed by the thud of his backpack hitting the floor.
“Kitchen,” I called out happily. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
He poked his head around the corner. I saw his messy hair covered by a backward baseball cap. Something about his eyes made me feel like my boy was back, even for just a second.
Boy with a backwards baseball cap | Source: Pexels
But they soon darted to the floor when I looked at him. I knew something was going on, but I had no idea how to address it. My boy almost seemed older than his few years.
“Sorry I’m late. Chess club ran long.”
“Chess club?” I raised my eyebrows. “Yesterday it was math tutoring. And Tuesday was yearbook committee.”
“Oh yeah, I do all those now.” He shuffled his feet. “Can I eat in my room? Got tons of homework.”
Math book and notebook | Source: Pexels
I gripped the wooden spoon tighter, accidentally dripping tomato sauce onto the stovetop, and decided enough was enough. “Drake, what’s really going on?” I asked, turning and putting one hand on my hip.
“Nothing! I told you, just busy with school stuff,” he shrugged and moved further into the kitchen. Without meeting my gaze, he grabbed a plate, scooped up some pasta, and disappeared before I could press further.
Pasta dish | Source: Pexels
I sighed and wondered to the heavens for the millionth time if I should intervene. Maybe I wouldn’t get an answer from up above, but I could try to find some of my own.
I checked the hallway, and his door was shut as usual, but he had left his backpack in the living room. It was my chance.
Inside, crumpled between textbooks, I found a piece of paper with an address scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting: “1247 Maple Street. Don’t be late. This is it.”
Backpack on the floor | Source: Unsplash
What was going on? I wondered, horrified.
***
That night, I found myself going through his old baby photos, spread across my bedroom floor like pieces of a life I barely recognized anymore.
There he was, two years old, grinning with spaghetti sauce all over his face. That happy little boy used to tell me everything. Now he barely looked at me.
Toddler covered in spaghetti sauce | Source: Midjourney
The parent-teacher conference from last week played in my head.
“Drake seems… distracted lately,” Mrs. Peterson had said, sliding his failed math test across her desk. “He’s been falling asleep in class. When he’s awake, he’s always scribbling in his notebook, but it’s not notes from the lesson.”
How could he be getting a grade like that with math tutoring? Was it time to pull the plug on all other clubs?
A math test | Source: Pexels
Either way, I knew sleep wouldn’t come, so I decided to take a shower.
The bathroom was my sanctuary, the one place I could relax and belt out old songs without anyone hearing. Tonight’s selection was “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
The steam rose around me as I hit the chorus, and I remembered how I used to dream of being on stage.
A woman washing her hair | Source: Pexels
“Where do we go now?” I sang, letting my voice soar like it used to at the coffee shop open mics when my future hopes were far grander than what reality allowed.
Sadly, those wishes were extinguished the moment, Tom, Drake’s father and my ex, left us for his new family in Seattle.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past again. The present was much more important. I finished cleaning myself up and exited my shower. As I dried my hair, I felt the pull on my ear and heard a clink on my tiled floor.
A woman drying up | Source: Pexels
My earring! I bent down to get it and saw the crystal’s shining light reflecting from just under the bathtub. Except… something else caught my eye.
There, hidden under the edge, was an old nanny cam I used when Drake was a baby. And it was ON. I immediately went pale. But I examined the angle. It would only be recording my feet. I didn’t get it.
Still, my hands shook as I took it and carefully wrapped myself in a towel to march straight to Drake’s room. The sound of his furious typing stopped when I pounded on the door.
A woman holding a small camera | Source: Pexels
“Just a minute!” he called out, and I heard drawers being opened and shut. What in the world?
“Drake, open this door right now!”
Finally, I heard footsteps and the door swung open.
He stood there in his oversized gaming headphones, and his own face turned white as soon as I held up the nanny cam.
A boy with headphones | Source: Pexels
“Drake, what is this? Why was this hidden in the bathroom?!” I asked, as my anger and bravado turned to extreme worry.
When he remained silent, I gulped and asked, “Have you been… recording me in the bathroom?”
His eyes widened at that. His expression was terrified. “Oh no… Mom, you weren’t supposed to find that. IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK. I can explain!”
“Then start explaining.” I pushed past him into his room and looked at his computer. The screen showed some kind of video editing software. Oh, no! What is he doing?
A laptop on a desk | Source: Pexels
But before I could panic more, Drake spoke. “I…” He slumped onto his bed. “You weren’t supposed to find out yet.”
“Find out what? That my son is making videos of…” I couldn’t even say it.
“No! Mom, listen,” he pleaded as tears welled up in his eyes. “Remember when you used to sing at the coffee shop open mics? Before Dad left?”
The question caught me off guard. “What does that have to do with anything?”
A woman looking confused | Source: Pexels
“You were so happy then. Now you only sing in the shower, when you think no one can hear you.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “But you’re still amazing, Mom. I wanted to show you that.”
He reached for his laptop and turned it toward me. His fingers pressed play, and suddenly, the screen showed me… well, a music video.
I saw a sunset over the city and streets filled with people chasing their dreams. But the main part was the soundtrack with my voice, clear and strong. It was playing “My Way.”
A sunset over New York | Source: Pexels
“I met an old man, Mr. Arthur. I’ve been going to his studio after school,” Drake continued. “He’s been teaching me video editing. I wanted to surprise you for your birthday, show you that you shouldn’t give up on your dreams just because…”
“Because your father left?” The words stuck in my throat.
“He owns all these old instruments, and he lets me practice drums while he teaches me about making videos.” Drake’s words tumbled out faster now. “I’ve been doing extra chores for neighbors to pay for studio time. Mr. Arthur says I have a good eye for it.”
A drum set | Source: Pexels
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you worry about everything now.” His voice cracked. “Ever since Dad left, it’s like you stopped believing in good surprises. I thought if I could just finish the video, show you how amazing you still are…”
Tears welled and fell before I could stop them. All this time, I’d been so worried about what he was hiding. Never once did I consider he might be worried about me too.
A woman crying | Source: Pexels
“You could have just talked to me,” I said softly, wrapping my arms around him.
“Would you have listened?” He looked up at me, suddenly seeming older than 11. “You always say you’re fine, but I hear you crying sometimes. And you never sing anymore, except in the shower.”
I pulled him close, feeling his thin shoulders shake. “I’m sorry, baby. I guess we’ve both been keeping too many things inside.”
We stayed in silence for a few minutes before I remembered something. “Oh! Is Mr. Arthur’s studio on 1247 Maple Street?”
A music studio | Source: Midjourney
“Yes!” Drake said, but then frowned. “How did you know?”
“In the interest of honesty…” I began and confessed to rummaging through his backpack. Shockingly, we just laughed at each other.
***
The next day, we visited Mr. Arthur’s studio together. He turned out to be a gentle giant with calloused hands and kind eyes, surrounded by dusty guitars and vintage recording equipment.
Music equipment | Source: Pexels
“Your boy’s got talent,” he told me and showed me more of Drake’s videos. “And so do you.”
And now that the secrets were out, Drake and I finally finished the jigsaw puzzle together. I also sang outside the shower for the first time in years.
What’s more, next week, I’m singing at the coffee shop again. My son will be there, recording every moment. This time, I won’t be afraid of a little camera.
A woman singing a microphone | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Grandkids Destroyed My Neighbor’s House with Party While She Was at Husband’s Funeral – I Taught Them a Harsh Lesson
Grandkids Destroyed My Neighbor’s House with Party While She Was at Husband’s Funeral – I Taught Them a Harsh Lesson
My sweet old neighbor recently lost her husband and left to fulfill his wish to be buried beside his father, leaving her house in her grandchildren’s care. But the brats trashed it with a party and ran off. I stood up for the poor old lady and taught her grandkids a priceless lesson.
So, here’s a story about the time I had to teach some bratty grandkids a lesson they’d never forget. It all started with my sweet, kind, and friendly neighbor, Mrs. Jacobs.
Her husband, Mr. Jacobs, passed away recently. His last wish was to be buried next to his father’s grave, which was several hundred miles away on the other side of the city…
People at a funeral | Source: AmoMama
Mrs. Jacobs, being the devoted wife she was, went off to fulfill his last wish, saying she’d be back ASAP. She assured me everything would be fine while she was away.
Before she left, I offered to feed her two dogs and cats. Mrs. Jacobs thanked me but told me it wasn’t necessary.
“I’ve invited my grandchildren, Jordan and Ariana, to stay over while I’m gone. They’re in their sophomore year in college, so they can handle it,” she said. Famous last words.
An older lady walking on a porch | Source: AmoMama
She seemed so confident in their ability to manage the house and take care of her beloved pets, and I didn’t want to undermine her trust in them.
I’m a nurse, so I had a graveyard shift that night. The next morning, I decided to drop by Mrs. Jacobs’s house to check if everything was okay and maybe say hi to the grandkids.
A young nurse outside a house | Source: AmoMama
It had been several months since I last saw them, and I thought it’d be a good time to offer my condolences. Plus, I wanted to ensure Mrs. Jacobs’s pets were doing alright in her absence.
When I knocked on the door, no one answered. Weird. So, I slowly pushed it open, and it was unlocked.
For illustration purposes only | Source: AmoMama
What greeted me was pure chaos. Imagine empty alcohol bottles, broken cabinets, graffiti on the walls, stale pizza boxes, and clothes strewn everywhere. It was like a tornado had hit the place.
The mess was so extensive that it was hard to know where to start if you wanted to clean it up.
It didn’t take long to figure out what had happened. Her lovely grandchildren had thrown a massive party and left the house trashed.
A chaotic party scene | Source: AmoMama
I couldn’t believe my eyes. The audacity of these kids! Instead of being there for their grieving grandmother, they turned her home into a frat house.
They showed no respect for her or her property, and it made my blood boil.
I was seething with anger, but I knew I had to act fast. Just then, a cab pulled up, and out stepped Mrs. Jacobs. She looked exhausted but hopeful. But when she saw the mess, she burst into tears.
A shocked older woman | Source: AmoMama
It was heart-wrenching to see her so devastated by the destruction of her home.
“Nina, what… what happened to my house?” she sobbed, clutching my arm, her body shaking with the intensity of her grief and shock.
I took a deep breath. “I don’t know, but I’ll fix this,” I promised, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Why don’t you stay at my sister’s place for a couple of days? I’ll take care of everything here.”
An upset older lady sitting on the couch | Source: AmoMama
Her eyes filled with gratitude. “What are you going to do?” she asked, looking at me with hope and desperation.
“Just trust me,” I said, giving her a reassuring smile. “I have a plan.”
Glistening eyes of older woman | Source: AmoMama
The next morning, I called Jordan and Ariana.
“Listen, your grandma is not well,” I lied. “She doesn’t have much time left, and she’s deciding who will inherit her estate.”
“Wait, what?” Jordan sounded shocked. My plan seemed to work and I knew I had his attention.
A young man talking on the phone | Source: AmoMama
“She’s got a significant amount of money in her bank account,” I continued.
“She’ll leave it to the grandchild who proves they care about her the most.”
“Are you serious?” Ariana asked when I called her next, excitement evident in her voice. I could practically hear the wheels turning in her head, calculating her chances of getting the inheritance.
A young woman in a cafe engaged in a phone call | Source: AmoMama
“Yes, and if she finds out about the mess you made, you’ll both be out of the will,” I warned, hoping the threat would motivate them to take immediate action.
Within hours, Jordan and Ariana showed up with a few friends.
They cleaned up the mess, scrubbed the walls, fixed the broken cabinets, painted the fence, and even took care of the leaky roof Mrs. Jacobs had been complaining about for months.
A young man and woman in a car | Source: AmoMama
I watched from my balcony, sipping on my cinnamon coffee, a triumphant smile on my face as they worked tirelessly to restore the house.
“Make sure you get that spot by the fireplace,” Jordan barked at one of his friends, pointing at the grime that had accumulated there over time.
A young woman clutching a cup of coffee on the balcony | Source: AmoMama
Ariana was on her knees, scrubbing the floor. “This better be worth it,” she muttered under her breath, clearly not enjoying the task but determined to see it through.
The next evening, Mrs. Jacobs returned. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the spotless house.
“Oh my goodness, Nina, I’m not able to recognize my own house! How did you manage this?” she asked, tears of joy streaming down her face.
A surprised older woman | Source: AmoMama
“Just a little trick, Mrs. Jacobs!” I replied, not giving away the whole truth. I wanted her to feel at peace and not worry about the effort it took to clean up the disaster her grandkids had left behind.
Her grandchildren hovered around her, eager to please. They competed for her attention, hoping to secure their place in her will. It was almost comical to see how quickly they had changed their tune.
Teary eyes of an older woman | Source: AmoMama
“Nana, I made your favorite stew,” Ariana said, presenting a steaming bowl with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The effort was there, even if the sincerity was questionable.
Jordan cut in, “And I’m taking you to the new art exhibit downtown this weekend. Thought it’d be a nice change of pace,” he added, trying to one-up his sister.
Young man with older woman | Source: AmoMama
Over the next few weeks, I watched in amusement as Jordan and Ariana doted on their grandmother.
Jordan took her on a vacation to Miami, something he’d never done before, and Ariana drove her around town, did her laundry, and even cooked meals for her. They were going above and beyond to show their care.
Young lady in the kitchen | Source: AmoMama
It was such a pleasure to watch the grandchildren take care of Mrs. Jacobs and have most of her wants fulfilled. For instance, Mrs. Jacobs had a rotten tooth that needed immediate attention.
It thrilled my heart to watch Jordan and Ariana fight on the porch over who would take their grandma to the dentist.
Young man and woman staring at each other | Source: AmoMama
“You took her last time!” Ariana shouted, crossing her arms defiantly, clearly not wanting to back down from the responsibility.
“Yeah, but she likes my car better,” Jordan retorted, keys dangling from his finger, trying to assert his superiority.
An annoyed young lady | Source: AmoMama
You won’t believe it, but they started visiting their grandma regularly on weekends and even drove her to church every Sunday.
I was so happy for Mrs. Jacobs and the pleasant changes in her fragile, old age.
But deep down, it also saddened me to know that her grandkids were competing only for her money. It would hurt the poor old lady if she ever discovered this, right?
Woman sitting on a couch | Source: AmoMama
God, I hope such a day never arrives in Mrs. Jacobs’s life, or it would tear her apart.
One day, Mrs. Jacobs came over to my place, a radiant smile on her face.
“Nina, I’m so happy. My grandchildren have changed so much. They’re always around, taking care of me. I don’t know what you did, but thank you!” she chirped.
I smiled, squeezing her hands. “Just did what needed to be done,” I said, winking at her, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and relief that my plan had worked so well.
Happy older woman on a warm evening | Source: AmoMama
She hugged me tightly. “They’re taking me to a movie today,” she said, beaming with joy and pride in her “transformed” grandchildren.
As she left, I offered a silent apology, hoping she’d never discover the truth. I wanted her to live happily, surrounded by the love she deserved, without ever knowing the extent of my intervention.
Older lady and young woman embracing each other | Source: AmoMama
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