A little boy stops in his tracks when he answers the doorbell and discovers a box on the doorstep with a crying baby inside – but who had mercilessly abandoned the child out there in the cold, let alone in a box?
When Kevin Anderson turned 6, he asked his parents to give him something that left them awestruck. “Mommy! Daddy!” he said. “Do you promise me that you will get me what I want for my birthday?”
“Sure, honey,” his mother, Caroline, said. “What exactly do you want?”
“Well, I think I know it,” his father, Andrew, guessed. “Isn’t it the latest Transformers collection? I know Kevin wants that!”
“No, Daddy!” Kevin giggled. “I want a little baby! Paul told me that when his sister was born, his parents said she was a gift from God. Can you please ask God to give me a little sister too? Even a little brother is okay.”
His parents exchanged a quick look, their faces flushed with embarrassment. Caroline and Andrew had decided to expand their family once they had a larger house, but when Kevin suggested having a younger sibling, they couldn’t help but smile shyly at the boy. “All right, Kevin,” his father said. “You know there is a way by which God can answer your wishes.”
“Really?”
“Yes, honey. All you need to do is write a letter to him. Maybe ask Santa for a little help? He’s quite close with God.”
To little Kevin, it sounded pretty convincing, and he was relieved that his father’s idea would work. So that year, at Christmas, Kevin wrote his first letter to Santa to help him convince God to send him a little sister or brother soon. Little did the boy know that God would answer his prayers far too soon…
Kevin wrote a letter to Santa to ask for a sibling | Photo: Pexels
One wintry evening, Kevin was about to leave the house to play with his friends when his doorbell rang. “Andrew, could you please check who’s there?” Caroline asked from the kitchen where she was baking cookies.
Andrew, who was busy looking for something in his closet, asked Kevin to check the door. “Kevin, can you please check the door, honey? Daddy will be there in a minute.”
“Okay, daddy,” the boy replied, running to the door, but when he answered it, he was baffled. There wasn’t anyone standing at their doorstep, but there was a huge brown box. He tried lifting it to bring it inside, but as he shook it a little, a loud crying sound came from within it.
Kevin took a step back from the box, terrified, but the crying continued. When he finally opened it, he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw a baby inside, wrapped in a thin rag.
He dashed to his parents with the baby in his arms. “Mommy! Daddy! God answered my prayer! Look, it’s a baby.”
Kevin found a baby inside a box | Photo: Pexels
Having just entered the living room, Andrew froze in place when he saw the child in Kevin’s arms. Caroline, too, wondered about the crying sound from the living room and gasped when she arrived and saw Kevin holding a baby.
“Where did you find the baby, honey?” she asked, worried.
“There was a box on our doorstep, mommy. I am so happy that God sent me a sibling! Yay!”
Andrew took the baby from Kevin and rushed to the door, where the box was lying. He looked around to see if the person who’d left the box and the baby was still there. But all he saw was thick snow that had enclosed the entire area.
“There’s no one there,” he said when he returned. “What should we do now?”
Caroline took the baby in her arms, and as she rocked the child to stop the crying, she sensed the little one was running a temperature. “Honey,” she told Andrew. “I think we should take the child to a hospital. We need to get the baby checked.”
With that, Andrew and Caroline decided to visit the hospital and asked their neighbor, Mrs. Clemmens, to look after Kevin while they were away.
Caroline noticed the baby was running a temperature | Photo: Pexels
The doctors said the baby had a fever because of being left in the cold, and they would keep her under observation for a while. “Your daughter will be here for a while, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. Before we admit her, please complete the formalities at the reception desk.”
Andrew and Caroline looked at each other. They couldn’t just write it in the form that they were the child’s parents. They needed to inform the cops about it, so they did. The CPS and police were informed, and it was decided that after the baby girl was discharged, she would be placed in the hospital’s orphanage while the cops searched for her parents.
Back at home, Andrew and Caroline had to lie to Kevin that the baby was sick and would be hospitalized for a long time. However, after nearly a month passed with no news of anyone showing up as the baby’s parents, she was officially admitted to the orphanage. And it was at that point that Andrew and Caroline considered adopting her.
They decided to embrace her and raise her as her own and thought that Kevin would love to have her as a younger sibling. So they filed for her adoption, and two months later, when it was finalized and the baby came home, Andrew and Caroline felt like their family was finally complete.
But everything changed one fateful afternoon when a woman appeared on Andrew and Caroline’s doorstep, claiming to be the baby’s biological mother…
Caroline and Andrew adopted the baby | Photo: Pexels
One year later…
“Hi there, lady, my name is Laura. And the baby you’re holding in your arms is my daughter. I shouldn’t have left her in that stupid box! Give her back,” the woman said rudely as Caroline answered the door. Her demeanor was stiff and stern, and her tone was anything but sweet. Caroline was taken aback by her sight, to say the least.
“What? What did you just say? Your daughter?!” A fit of sudden anger gripped Caroline. “She’s mine, and I’m not going to give her to you! We officially adopted her a year ago, and you have no legal right to her!”
Laura smirked. “We’ll see about that in court, lady! Here,” she said, handing Caroline a document. “I’ve filed for custody of my daughter, and I’ll get her back at any cost! After all, I am the biological mother,” she said before walking away.
That night, Caroline and Andrew were very worried. The first court hearing was a week later, and they had no idea what would happen. What if they lost? What if their daughter was taken away? They knew the chances of that happening were minimal, but they were scared.
Laura challenged Caroline for the baby’s custody | Photo: Pexels
Thankfully, after hearing from both parties, the judge ruled in Andrew and Caroline’s favor. Laura’s parental rights were terminated because she abandoned her child a year ago and never bothered to look after her, and if she wanted them restored, she would have to adhere to a specific timeframe as described by the law and provide additional proof that she could care for her child better than her adoptive parents.
Laura knew she couldn’t do that. She lived in a small house and had very little money. After her husband had died, she decided to abandon the baby on the Andersons’ doorstep and focus on her new boyfriend.
However, when she discovered that her late husband had left all of his money to their daughter rather than her, she left her boyfriend so that she wouldn’t have to share all of the money and decided to take her daughter back. But it was too late. She was merely a waitress at a pub, and her living conditions would never persuade the court that she was capable of caring for her child.
So, in the end, Andrew and Caroline won the case. And years later, they also bought a new house and welcomed another beautiful baby girl. Kevin was overjoyed when he found out he had another younger sister.
What can we learn from this story?
- Love is what makes a family and not necessarily biology. Andrew and Caroline adopted Laura’s child and raised her as their own.
- Greed will lead you nowhere. Laura first abandoned her baby to enjoy life with her new boyfriend, and later, to obtain all of her husband’s money, she left her boyfriend. In the end, she ended up with nothing.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a young widow who heard her late husband knock from inside his coffin at his funeral.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story 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.
The HOA President Fined Me Over My Lawn – I Provided Him with More Reasons to Pay Attention
Larry, our clipboard-wielding HOA dictator, had no idea who he was messing with when he fined me for my lawn being half an inch too long. I decided to give him something to really look at, a lawn so outrageous, yet so perfectly within the rules, that he’d regret ever starting this fight.
For decades, my neighborhood was the kind of place where you could sip tea on your porch in peace, wave to the neighbors, and not worry about a thing.
Then Larry got his grubby hands on the HOA presidency.
Oh, Larry. You know the type: mid-50s, born in a pressed polo shirt, thinks the world revolves around his clipboard. From the moment he took office, it was like someone handed him the keys to a kingdom.
Or at least, that’s what he thought.
Now, I’ve been living here for twenty-five years. Raised three kids in this house. Buried a husband too. And you know what I’d learned?
Don’t mess with a woman who’s survived kids and a man who thought barbeque sauce was a vegetable. Larry clearly didn’t get that memo.
Ever since I skipped his precious HOA meeting last summer, he’s been out for blood. Like I needed to hear two hours of droning on about fence heights and paint colors. I had more important things to do — like watching my begonias bloom.
It all started last week.
I was out on the porch, minding my business, when I spotted Larry marching up the driveway, clipboard in hand.
“Oh, here we go,” I muttered, already feeling my blood pressure spike.
He stopped right at the foot of the steps, and didn’t even bother with a hello.
“Mrs. Pearson,” he began, his voice dripping with condescension. “I’m afraid you’ve violated the HOA’s lawn maintenance standards.”
I blinked at him, trying to keep my temper in check. “Is that so? The lawn’s been freshly mowed. Just did it two days ago.”
“Well,” he said, clicking his pen like he was about to write me up for a felony, “it’s half an inch too long. HOA standards are very clear about this.”
I stared at him. Half. An. Inch. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
His smug little grin told me otherwise.
“We have standards here, Mrs. Pearson. If we let one person get away with neglecting their lawn, what kind of message does that send?”
Oh, I could’ve throttled him right there. But I didn’t. Instead, I just smiled sweetly and said, “Thanks for the heads-up, Larry. I’ll be sure to trim that extra half-inch for you.”
Inside, though? I was fuming. Who did this guy think he was? Half an inch?
I’ve survived diaper blowouts, PTA meetings, and a husband who once tried to roast marshmallows using a propane torch. I wasn’t about to let Larry the Clipboard King push me around.
That night, I sat in my armchair, stewing over the whole thing. I thought about all the times in my life I’d been told to “follow the rules,” and how I’d managed to bend them just enough to keep my sanity.
If Larry wanted to play hardball, fine. Two could play that game.
And then it hit me: the HOA rulebook. That stupid, dusty old thing Larry was always quoting. I hadn’t bothered with it much over the years, but now it was time to get acquainted.
I flipped through it for a good hour, and there it was. Clear as day. Lawn decorations, tasteful, of course, were completely allowed, as long as they stayed within certain size and placement guidelines.
Oh, Larry. You poor, unfortunate soul. You had no idea what you’d just unleashed.
The very next morning, I went on the shopping spree of a lifetime. It was glorious. I bought gnomes. Not just any gnomes, though, giant ones. One was holding a lantern, another was fishing in a little fake pond I set up in the garden.
And an entire flock of pink, plastic flamingos. I clustered them together like they were planning some sort of tropical rebellion.
Then came the solar lights. I lined the walkway, the garden, and even hung a few in the trees. By the time I was done, my yard looked like a cross between a fairy tale and a Florida souvenir shop.
And the best part? Every single piece was perfectly HOA-compliant. Not a single rule was broken. I leaned back in my lawn chair, watching the sun set behind my masterpiece.
The twinkling lights came to life, casting a warm glow over my gnome army and the flamingo brigade. It was, in a word, glorious.
But Larry, oh Larry, was not going to take this lying down.
The first time he saw my yard, I knew I had him. I was watering the petunias when I spotted his car creeping down the street. His windows rolled down, his eyes narrowing as they scanned every inch of my lawn.
The way his jaw clenched, his fingers tight on the steering wheel — it was priceless. He slowed to a crawl, staring at the gnome with the margarita, lounging in his lawn chair like he didn’t have a care in the world.
I gave Larry a little wave, extra sweet, as if I didn’t know I’d just declared war.
He stared at me, his face turning the color of a sunburned tomato, and then, without a word, he sped off.
I let out a laugh so loud it startled a squirrel in the oak tree. “That’s right, Larry. You can’t touch this.”
For a few days, I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d let it go. Silly me. A week later, there he was again, stomping up to my door with that clipboard, wearing his HOA President badge like he’d been knighted.
“Mrs. Pearson,” he began, not even bothering with pleasantries, “I’ve come to inform you that your mailbox violates HOA standards.”
I blinked at him. “The mailbox?” I tilted my head toward it. “Larry, I just painted that thing two months ago. It’s pristine.”
He squinted at it like he’d found some imaginary flaw. “The paint is chipping,” he insisted, scribbling something on his clipboard.
I glanced at the mailbox again. Not a chip in sight. But I knew this wasn’t about the mailbox. This was personal.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “All this over half an inch of grass?”
“I’m just enforcing the rules,” Larry said, but the look in his eyes told a different story.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Sure, Larry. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
He turned on his heel and strutted back to his car like he’d just delivered some life-altering decree. I watched him go, fury bubbling up inside me. Oh, he thought he could win this? Fine. Let the games begin.
That night, I hatched a plan. If Larry wanted a fight, he was going to get one. I spent the next morning back at the garden store, loading up on more gnomes, more flamingos, and just for fun, a motion-activated sprinkler system.
By the time I was done, my yard looked like a carnival of absurdity. Gnomes of all sizes stood proudly in formation, some fishing, some holding tiny shovels, and one, my new favorite, lounging in a hammock with a miniature beer in hand.
The flamingos? They’d formed their own pink plastic army, marching across the lawn with solar lights guiding their way.
But the pièce de résistance? The sprinkler system. Every time Larry came by to inspect my yard, the motion sensor would activate, spraying water in every direction. Totally by accident, of course.
The first time it happened, I nearly fell off the porch laughing.
Larry pulled up, clipboard ready, only to be met with a stream of water straight to the face. He spluttered, waving his arms like a drowning cat, and retreated to his car, soaked to the bone.
The look of pure outrage on his face was worth every penny I’d spent.
But the best part? The neighbors started to notice.
One by one, they began stopping by to compliment my “creative flair.”
Mrs. Johnson from three houses down said she loved the “whimsical” atmosphere. Mr. Thompson chuckled, saying he hadn’t seen Larry so flustered in years. And soon, it wasn’t just compliments. The neighbors started putting up their own lawn decorations.
It began with a few garden gnomes, but soon, flamingos popped up all over the cul-de-sac, twinkling lights appeared in every yard, and someone even set up a miniature windmill.
Larry couldn’t keep up.
His clipboard became a joke. The once-feared fines became a badge of honor among the residents, and the more he tried to tighten his grip, the more the neighborhood slipped through his fingers.
Every day, Larry had to drive past our gnomes, our flamingos, and our lights, knowing full well that we’d beaten him at his own game.
And me? I watched the chaos unfold with a smile on my face.
The whole neighborhood had come together, united by lawn ornaments and sheer spite. And Larry, poor Larry, was left powerless, just a man with a soggy clipboard and no authority to back it up.
So, Larry, if you’re reading this, keep on looking. I’ve got plenty more ideas where these came from.
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