I always thought the most outrageous thing my daughter-in-law ever did was smuggle a turkey leg into her handbag on Thanksgiving.
Turns out, that was cute compared to what came later.
This year, Bianca marched into my house in stilettos, dropped my grandson on the floor, and announced she had dinner reservations and I would “do what grandmothers do.”
But I had plans. Ballroom dance class. My one joy these days.
“I told you I have class tonight,” I said.
She waved a hand. “You can skip it. You’re always home.”
Something inside me finally snapped.
“No,” I told her. “I’m not your on-call babysitter. Take your son with you or cancel.”
Her jaw dropped. My son stared at the car floor.
I locked my door, drove to class shaking, and danced harder than I ever had.
After that night, everything changed.
I watched my grandson only on the days we agreed on.
When Bianca tried to dump him on me last minute, I calmly said, “Sorry, that doesn’t work for me.”
She hated it… until the gala.
Sebastian, my dance partner, and I performed a tango at a charity event—an event Bianca happened to be planning. When the spotlight hit me in my red dress and the crowd erupted with applause, her jaw nearly hit the floor.
For the first time, she saw me as a person—not her free childcare.
Here’s what I learned:
We teach people how to treat us.
Say no. Take up space.
Don’t just act your age—own it.
