When Brendon’s mother-in-law, Susan, sees the Christmas present pile under the tree, she immediately wants to take away her granddaughter’s gift. And for what? To teach the little girl a lesson: that you cannot always get what you want. Not to be outdone, Brendon teaches Susan a Christmas lesson that she’ll never forget.
It was the first Christmas I could finally afford to splurge a little. I’d landed a new job earlier that year, one with a salary that made it possible to loosen up and enjoy the holidays.
Most of my money went toward gifts for my nine-year-old daughter, Eve. She had been doing so well in school, helping out around the house without us even asking, and being all-around amazing.
A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney
If anyone deserved to be spoiled, it was her.
But apparently, my mother-in-law, Susan, had other thoughts.
The trouble started when she dropped by one morning, bringing a batch of freshly baked muffins with her. She noticed the Christmas tree practically buried under a pile of wrapped presents. Immediately, her face changed.
Muffins on a table | Source: Midjourney
“Wow,” Susan said, crossing her arms as she scanned the room. “Looks like Santa went a little overboard this year, huh?”
I gave her a polite smile, still riding the holiday high.
“I figured it was a good year to do something special. Everyone’s got a little something under the tree… including you,” I laughed.
Her eyebrows lifted.
Christmas presents under a tree | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, and what about Evie?” she asked. “How many presents does my granddaughter get?”
What the hell? I thought.
But I knew that tone too well. I kept my response light, hoping to dodge the fight I felt brewing.
“About three big ones and a few smaller boxes,” I said politely.
Susan’s expression shifted from curiosity to indignation so fast it gave me whiplash. She shook her head slowly, her lips pursing like I’d just confessed to some unthinkable crime.
A frowning older woman | Source: Midjourney
“That’s way too much for a nine-year-old, Brendon,” she snapped. “She doesn’t need all of that.”
I blinked, caught off guard.
“It’s Christmas, Susan,” I said. “It’s the one day we can go all out. She’s earned it; she’s been working hard all year.”
Susan waved me off, not even pretending to listen to my words.
A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney
“No child needs that many gifts,” she said. “I’ll be taking back the doll I bought her. She has to learn that life won’t always give her everything she asks for.”
I stared at the woman standing in front of me. I was in utter disbelief.
“You promised her that doll, Susan! She’s been excited about it for weeks.”
“That’s exactly why she needs to learn a lesson,” Susan said with a smug smile. “Better she learn it now than later.”
A doll in a box | Source: Midjourney
I bit my tongue, trying to stay civil.
Before I knew it, Eve came running down the stairs.
“Good morning, Gran!” she said, rushing to hug the old woman.
“Hello, darling,” Susan said, giving me a smug look. “Gran’s leaving now, but I’ll see you soon!”
A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney
I understood the lesson she was trying to teach, really, I did. But this was Christmas! And Eve was nine.
It wasn’t about deprivation, it was about joy. Our daughter wasn’t some spoiled brat, and I saw no reason to punish her on the one day meant for celebration.
As for Melanie, my wife?
She told me to let it go.
“My mother’s gift is hers to decide what to do with,” she said with a shrug later that night as she made grilled fish for dinner. “It’s just a doll, anyway. Will Evie really miss it?”
A tray of grilled fish | Source: Midjourney
I knew my wife had grown up with her mother’s toxic behavior and probably didn’t want to stir the pot, but it was still too much for me.
Our daughter was counting on that gift, and Susan was taking it away just to prove a point.
That’s when I decided—if Susan was going to play petty games, I could play them better.
See, one of the things I’d bought that year was a designer bag for Susan. It was the one thing she had been talking about for months.
A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney
“I was with Cora from the club,” she said. “And we were walking around the mall, and I saw it in the store window. It’s so chic and beautiful. I have to get it!”
She hinted at it every chance she got, practically salivating over it.
And I bought it for her.
My goodness, it was expensive, $600, to be exact. I figured it would score me some brownie points, and honestly, as problematic as she was, I did like the idea of making her happy.
A designer handbag on a table | Source: Midjourney
But now?
Now I had other plans.
I took the fancy bag out of its box and carefully folded a cheap $40 robe inside. It was a plain thing, just boring gray with no patterns. To be honest, it was the kind of gift you’d pick up in a rush from the clearance bin at the last minute.
I wrapped the box back up with care, making sure the packaging looked pristine.
A gold box with a ribbon | Source: Midjourney
“You’re putting way too much effort into this, honey,” Melanie laughed.
“She needs to be taught a lesson, Mel,” I said. “Your mother messed with the wrong man.”
Christmas morning came, and the living room buzzed with excitement as everyone opened their presents. My daughter tore through her gifts, laughter bubbling as she saw all her presents.
Melanie smiled as she unwrapped the cozy scarf and pair of shoes I’d picked for her.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
And then came Susan’s turn.
Her eyes lit up the moment she saw the designer bag’s signature gold box. She clasped her hands together, beaming as she tore off the wrapping paper.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” she said, her voice high with excitement.
I leaned back, watching with the tiniest smile. She pulled the lid off the box, and her smile faltered.
A gray robe in a box | Source: Midjourney
Gone was the giddy excitement. Instead, in its place was pure confusion.
Then shock.
And finally, disappointment.
Susan pulled the robe from the box, holding it up with trembling hands.
“What… What is this? Melanie? Brendon?” she asked.
I gave her my most innocent smile.
“It’s a robe,” I said. “I thought you’d like it. It’s practical, isn’t it?”
Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. She looked between the robe and the expensive-looking box, her face turning pale.
“Is this really my gift?” she asked quietly.
I nodded, trying not to laugh.
An upset old woman | Source: Midjourney
“Sorry if it’s not what you were hoping for. But you taught me a lesson the other day, Susan. You told me that people don’t always get the gifts they want. It’s a good lesson, don’t you think?”
Susan’s jaw tightened, and I swear I saw her eye twitch. My wife shot me a look that could melt steel. But I didn’t care.
I’d made my point. And my daughter was happy.
A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney
“Come on,” Melanie said, calling everyone to the table. “The Christmas feast is ready to go!”
Later that afternoon, after we were all stuffed from the meal, Susan pulled me aside.
“You bought the bag, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice low and desperate.
I raised an eyebrow.
A Christmas feast | Source: Midjourney
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Brendon,” she hissed. “I know you bought it. Where is it?”
I crossed my arms and gave her a casual shrug.
“Sold it,” I said. “If you wouldn’t spoil my daughter, why would I spoil you?”
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
A gift bag on a table | Source: Midjourney
“You’re lying. You didn’t sell it,” she said.
“Susan, believe what you want,” I said. “But you made it clear, sometimes people don’t get the things they ask for. Seems only fair, don’t you think?”
Susan’s face twisted again, and for a moment, I thought she might explode. Instead, she let out a sharp breath, clearly trying to contain herself.
“I’ve been nothing but generous to you,” she whispered angrily.
A frowning old woman | Source: Midjourney
“Really? Because taking back a promised gift from your granddaughter doesn’t feel very generous to me.”
She had no comeback for that. She just stood there, lips pressed into a thin line, her anger simmering beneath the surface.
To say Susan was furious for the rest of the day would be an understatement. My wife gave me the cold shoulder too, but frankly, I didn’t care.
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
“You hurt my mother, Brendon,” she said. “You embarrassed her and you hurt her.”
“So what?” I asked. “She hurt me by pulling that stunt, Mel. Think about it, she took away something that Eve really wanted. And she had gotten it before I landed my new job. What would have happened if I couldn’t get Evie any Christmas presents? That doll would have saved the day.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on it,” Mel said. “Eve didn’t even see the doll, it’s a different case if Mom took it straight from her hands.”
An upset older woman | Source: Midjourney
“You just don’t get it, do you?” I asked.
“I don’t. I really don’t,” she said.
Look, even now, things are big tense with Melanie and Susan. But it’s not a big deal for me. The important part is that my daughter had a Christmas she would never forget. And I’d shown Susan that her behavior just isn’t acceptable.
An annoyed man | Source: Midjourney
By the end of the night, Susan left without so much as a goodbye. The robe sat abandoned on the couch.
Some people will tell you that Christmas is about forgiveness. About turning the other cheek and spreading joy. But sometimes, Christmas is about making sure people learn their lessons.
Even if it means playing a little dirty.
A robe and box on a couch | Source: Midjourney
My mother-in-law didn’t deserve the $600 bag, not with the way she treated my daughter. And if she thinks she can keep pulling her little power plays in my house… well, she’s got another thing coming.
Merry Christmas, Susan.
What would you have done?
A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:
My Kids’ Grandmom Came to Our Home, Packed the Christmas Presents She Gave Them & Took Them Away
When Rebecca’s mother-in-law, Darlene, goes home to take away her grandchildren’s Christmas presents, she’s left absolutely speechless. Later, she and her husband, Mark, learn that Darlene did this because she wanted to teach the couple a lesson… but karma intervenes, making sure that the old woman feels the same way the kids felt.
I never thought that this would be a story I’d tell. I mean, toxic in-laws are practically their own genre, but what my mother-in-law, Darlene, did this Christmas left me completely speechless.
Honestly, I’m still in shock.
A woman looking to the side | Source: Midjourney
I’m Rebecca, a mom of three chaotic kids. There’s Caleb (7), Sadie (5), and little Mason (3). Christmas is a huge deal in our house and has been like this since I was a child. We go all out.
The tree, the decorations, and of course, the gifts. Usually, Darlene shows up with her arms full of presents for the kids, playing the part of the doting grandma for one day a year.
This time, though, Darlene really outdid herself. Caleb got the new LEGO set that he had been begging for, and Sadie’s eyes lit up over a princess castle playset. Mason, the little speed demon of the family, zoomed through the living room on an adorable ride-on toy.
A castle made out of LEGO blocks | Source: Midjourney
She even threw in stylish clothes for all three kids.
“They need to be photo-ready, Becca,” she told me. “And this way, they all match!”
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.
The Mothers of a Couple Turned Thanksgiving Into a Living Hell for Their Newlywed Kids — Story of the Day
Two stubborn mothers arrive at Thanksgiving with their own plans, sparking a rivalry that fills the kitchen with smoke and tension. As surprises unfold, the family faces one unforgettable holiday where tempers flare, loyalties are tested, and a last-minute twist reminds them of what truly matters.
Thick, dark smoke swirled through the house, making it hard to breathe. Kira coughed, struggling to take in air as she pressed her hand over her mouth. Her other hand protectively rested on her pregnant belly, and she glanced at Michael with wide, anxious eyes.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
They moved cautiously toward the kitchen, where the thickest smoke seemed to gather. There, like two children caught in the act, stood Margaret and Rebecca, each looking as startled as the other.
Their faces were smudged with black soot, their eyes wide and guilty, while the oven door hung open, revealing a turkey charred beyond recognition.
“What is going on here?!” Michael yelled, his eyes darting from his mother to his mother-in-law, then to the smoky kitchen around them.
“This old woman—” Rebecca started, pointing an accusing finger at Margaret.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Old woman? Look who’s talking!” Margaret interrupted, her voice sharp as she crossed her arms.
Rebecca glared. “If you hadn’t barged in here—”
Margaret shot back, “Barged in? You’re the one who can’t cook!”
Their voices grew louder, words tumbling over each other, turning into a mess of jabs and shouts, each trying to talk over the other. Insults flew back and forth as if they’d forgotten anyone else was there.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Please, stop,” Kira whispered, clutching her belly, but they didn’t hear her.
Kira winced, feeling a sharp pain. “Stop! I’m in labor!” she yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos.
Both women froze, their faces stunned. Then, suddenly, the turkey burst into flames in the oven. Margaret and Rebecca shrieked, grabbing towels to fight the fire, while Kira moaned in pain, and Michael stood there, helpless, eyes wide in shock.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
One Week Earlier…
Margaret drove up to her daughter Kira’s house, feeling a spark of excitement. She held a fresh-baked pie on her lap, proud of the surprise she had planned.
Without calling ahead, she parked, stepped out, and walked up the front steps, smiling at the thought of catching them off guard. She knocked firmly, and before long, Michael opened the door, blinking in surprise.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Margaret… what are you doing here?” he asked, blinking in surprise.
“I decided to surprise you,” Margaret replied cheerfully, holding out a pie. “I thought a little treat might be nice.”
Michael took the pie, glancing back toward the kitchen, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “Thanks, Margaret. Um, come on in.”
Margaret stepped inside, slipping off her coat, and instantly heard voices from the kitchen. She paused, recognizing the tone of Rebecca’s voice. With a raised brow, she followed the sound and found Kira seated, listening as Rebecca talked in her usual, commanding way.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca was in mid-sentence, her words calm yet firm. “It’s important to establish good habits early. Babies need a routine, structure.”
Margaret felt a surge of irritation. “Why are you bothering my daughter?”
Rebecca looked over, blinking, and gave a tight smile. “I’m just giving her a little parenting advice.”
Margaret scoffed. “Parenting advice? And what do you know about raising kids?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca’s smile vanished. “Excuse me? Your daughter is married to my son, after all. I think that gives me some right to speak.”
“Oh, well, apologies accepted,” Margaret said with a dry laugh. “Though I recall your son didn’t even know how to wash his own dishes when he started dating Kira. I had to teach him myself!”
“How dare you!” Rebecca snapped.
Michael stepped into the kitchen. “Please, calm down. Let’s keep things peaceful, all right?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Kira gave a tired sigh. “There will be a little baby in this house soon,” she said softly. “We want a positive atmosphere here. No fighting.”
Margaret nodded, sitting down at the table. “You’re right, Kira. I want the best for this family. And, well, since we’re all here, even if some people weren’t exactly welcome…” Her gaze shifted pointedly to Rebecca. “Why don’t we talk about Thanksgiving? I’ll make my signature turkey—”
Rebecca cut her off. “Actually, I was going to suggest we celebrate at my place this year.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “We celebrate at my place every year. It’s tradition.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca crossed her arms. “Traditions can change. I’m tired of sneezing from your silly cat.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Better to have a cat than to celebrate in a snake’s den.”
Rebecca’s voice rose. “Who do you think you are?!”
Kira sighed heavily, covering her face with her hands. Michael gently patted her back. “I think we should celebrate here this year,” he offered quickly.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What?” Kira blurted, surprised.
“It’ll be fine, Kira. I’ll help you with the cooking,” Michael assured her.
Margaret shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“It’s better than all this arguing,” Michael replied.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Kira nodded wearily. “He’s right. My head is pounding.”
Rebecca softened a little. “At least let me help. I can make the turkey.”
Kira sighed. “Fine.”
“But what about my signature turkey?” Margaret asked, hurt.
“Just this once, Mom,” Kira pleaded.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Margaret paused, then gave in with a nod. “All right. For you, Kira,” she said, though a secret plan was already forming in her mind.
On Thanksgiving morning, Margaret rose early, her mind set on her plan. She was ready, having spent the entire week gathering the perfect ingredients. She packed up her turkey, herbs, spices, and everything needed to create her well-loved recipe.
She carefully tucked everything into a basket and drove over to Kira and Michael’s house. She knew Kira and Michael were out, so there was no time to waste.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She reached their front door, taking out the spare key Kira had given her, meant only for emergencies. But today, Margaret felt this was important enough.
As she stepped inside, she paused, listening. A muffled noise drifted from the kitchen—pots clanging, cabinets closing. Margaret froze, her mind racing. Kira and Michael’s car wasn’t outside, so it wasn’t them.
Her eyes darted around, and she spotted an umbrella by the door. She grabbed it firmly and walked toward the kitchen, her heart pounding. She raised the umbrella as she peeked inside.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
There, bent over the counter, was Rebecca, elbows deep in turkey preparations. Margaret stopped short, barely holding back from swinging the umbrella.
“Are you completely insane?!” Rebecca shouted.
Margaret glared back. “I thought you were a burglar! What are you even doing here?”
Rebecca crossed her arms. “Kira gave me permission to cook here. But what are you doing here?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Margaret calmly set her basket on the counter. “I’m here to make my turkey.”
Rebecca scowled. “That wasn’t the deal.”
Margaret smirked. “What’s wrong? Afraid mine will taste better?”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “We’ll just have to see about that!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The kitchen was soon filled with the sounds of clanking pots and muttered complaints as Margaret and Rebecca worked side by side, each determined to make the best turkey.
They bumped elbows, snatched spices from each other’s reach, and exchanged pointed glares. Margaret sprinkled her herbs, pretending not to notice when Rebecca nudged her arm slightly, causing salt to spill. Rebecca hummed loudly, ignoring Margaret’s muttering about “rookie mistakes.”
Finally, Margaret finished her turkey, carefully placing it in the oven with a triumphant grin. She noticed the irritation in Rebecca’s eyes but ignored it, brushing her hands off as she headed to the living room to relax.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
After a while, a strange, burnt smell filled the air. Alarmed, Margaret rushed back to the kitchen, finding Rebecca desperately waving a towel, trying to fan away thick smoke billowing from the oven.
“What did you do?!” Margaret shouted, glaring at Rebecca.
Rebecca crossed her arms. “I didn’t do anything! Maybe you don’t know how to cook.”
Margaret stormed over to the oven, eyeing the controls. She noticed the temperature had been changed. “You did this! You’re trying to ruin my turkey!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca leaned in with a smirk. “I didn’t touch it. If it’s ruined, it’s your own fault!”
Margaret pulled open the oven door, only to be hit by a wave of thick, black smoke that poured out into the kitchen. She coughed and squinted, trying to see through the haze.
There, in the center of the oven, was her turkey—charred to a solid black lump. It looked nothing like the golden masterpiece she’d imagined.
Moments later, Michael and Kira walked through the door, both stopping short at the smoky mess. Instantly, Margaret and Rebecca began shouting, each blaming the other.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
But suddenly, Kira doubled over, clutching her belly. “Michael… it’s time!” she gasped, gripping his hand.
As Michael guided Kira to the car, Margaret watched, her heart pounding with worry for her daughter.
“Take a cab,” Michael said firmly. “I don’t want either of you stressing Kira out with more arguments.” With that, he helped Kira into the car, then got in and drove off without waiting for their reply.
Margaret huffed. “Well, we can take my car.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca nodded, looking tired herself. “Fine, let’s go.”
When they arrived at the hospital, the nurse informed them that only Michael was allowed in the room with Kira. Margaret and Rebecca found two chairs in the hallway and sat down, an uncomfortable silence stretching between them. They fidgeted, glanced around, and avoided each other’s eyes.
Finally, Margaret cleared her throat. “I think we need a truce,” she said quietly. “We almost ruined Thanksgiving, and if Kira hadn’t gone into labor… well, we would have ruined it for her.”
Rebecca nodded slowly, her face softening. “I agree. I don’t want my granddaughter thinking her grandma’s a nutcase.” She paused, then looked at Margaret directly. “So, peace?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Margaret nodded, extending her hand. “Peace,” she repeated.
Rebecca took her hand, giving it a firm shake.
Just then, Michael stepped out, smiling. “You can see your granddaughter now,” he said, motioning for them to come in.
Both women leapt up, hurrying to the room. Inside, Kira lay on the hospital bed, smiling, with a tiny bundle cradled in her arms.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca leaned over, her eyes filling with tears. “She’s beautiful,” she said softly.
Margaret nodded, reaching out to touch the baby’s tiny hand. “And she looks like both of you,” she added with a smile.
A nurse walked in, carrying a tray. “Dinner for the new mom,” she announced, setting it on the bedside table. “Since it’s Thanksgiving, we went with a holiday-themed meal.” The tray held slices of turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, and green peas.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Margaret chuckled. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new Thanksgiving tradition.”
“No way!” Kira exclaimed with a laugh. “I am not going through this every year!”
Everyone burst out laughing, and though it wasn’t the Thanksgiving they’d planned, it was the one they truly needed.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Tell us what you think about this story and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: When Rick returns to his small hometown after his grandmother’s passing, he inherits her old bookstore—a place full of memories from his childhood. But as he starts cleaning, he uncovers hidden secrets about his grandmother’s life that change everything. Read the full story here.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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