My Brother Makes Our Grandma Do Everything around the House — When I Saw Her Washing the Floors I Taught Him a Lesson
When Mike’s careless attitude toward his elderly grandmother reaches a boiling point, his sister devises a cunning plan to teach him a lesson. What starts as a simple party quickly unravels, exposing family tensions and leaving Mike humiliated in front of friends and family.
Hi! My name’s Mia, and here’s my story. My grandma moved into my brother’s house a few months ago after hers was sold. She needed money for medical bills, and living with him seemed like a great idea. She never complained about it, and I thought they were having a great time until I came to visit…
Mia cooks as her grandmother does the dishes | Source: Midjourney
During my first week there, I saw my grandma cook, clean, do laundry, and tend to the yard day after day. Not once did my brother lift a finger to help. Despite Granny’s back problems, he told her to do more and more with this bored, entitled tone.
“Granny, can you iron my shirts?” he would call out from the living room.
“Sure, dear,” she would reply, forcing a smile.
Grandmother mowes the lawn | Source: Midjourney
“Granny, the yard needs mowing,” he would say while playing video games.
“Of course, I’ll get to it,” she would answer, wincing as she stood up.
One afternoon, I found her mopping the floors. Her hands were red and dry, with knuckles sticking through pale skin. She moved slowly, pain evident in every step. That’s when I broke down and decided I couldn’t stay quiet any longer.
Mia confronts her grandma | Source: Midjourney
“Grandma, why are you doing all this?” I asked, my voice trembling with anger. “You should be resting!”
She looked up, tired eyes meeting mine. “He needs help, dear. He’s busy with work.”
“Busy?!” I exploded. “He’s playing video games all day! This is not fair!”
Grandma sighed. “I don’t mind. It’s just a little work.”
Mike plays video games | Source: Midjourney
But it wasn’t just a little work. It was too much for anyone, let alone an elderly woman with health issues. I knew I had to do something. I decided to organize a party, but not just any party. This would be a party with a twist.
The relationship between my brother and me had always been complicated. Growing up, Mike was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong.
Mike as a child | Source: Midjourney
He was a star athlete in high school, always surrounded by friends and admiration. I, on the other hand, was the quiet, bookish one. I didn’t mind staying out of the spotlight, but it did create a rift between us.
Our parents adored Mike and doted on him, often overlooking his flaws. They saw him as ambitious and driven, while I was seen as the responsible one.
I expected him to help out more around the house. This dynamic followed us into adulthood. When Grandma moved in, I hoped Mike would finally step up and take responsibility.
Mike laughs it off | Source: Midjourney
“Mike, can you at least help Grandma with the groceries?” I had asked one day when I called to check in.
He had laughed. “She’s fine, sis. She likes to stay busy.”
“She’s not a maid,” I had snapped back, frustration boiling over.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he had replied dismissively.
The struggling grandma | Source: Midjourney
Seeing Grandma now, struggling and in pain, I felt a mix of anger and sadness. Mike had always been self-centered, but this was a new low. I couldn’t stand by and watch any longer.
One evening, I sat down with Grandma after dinner. “Granny, you need to rest. You can’t keep doing all this.”
She patted my hand. “I’ll be fine, sweetie. I’ve handled worse.”
Mia talks to her grandma | Source: Midjourney
“But you shouldn’t have to,” I insisted. “Mike needs to learn to help out. This isn’t fair to you.”
She sighed, looking weary. “He’s just used to it. He’s always been like this.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t make it right.”
As I thought about what to do, an idea formed in my mind. It was bold, maybe even a bit risky, but I knew it had to be done. Mike needed a wake-up call, and I was just the person to give it to him. He couldn’t keep getting away with treating Grandma like this. It was time for a change.
Mia has an idea | Source: Midjourney
The plan started to take shape in my mind. I would organize a surprise for Mike, something that would make him see just how much work Grandma was doing. He needed to understand the weight of responsibility and the value of family. And I was determined to make sure he learned his lesson.
On her last day of staying there, I asked my brother Mike for a small party. He agreed, thinking it would be a good way to see old friends.
The party was planned for the evening before I left. Our high school friends, his football team, and even some nostalgic teachers were invited for a BBQ and a celebration.
Party invitation | Source: Midjourney
As the time when everyone was supposed to arrive approached, I got busy with my plan. I yanked all of Mike’s clothes into the laundry bin and dirtied them with ketchup and dirt. He wouldn’t have anything clean to wear.
Next, I put clean dishes in the sink and covered them with soap and ketchup. I made sure to mess up everything Grandma had been doing for him all this time.
Mike was lounging on the couch, oblivious. “Hey, sis, can you get me a beer?” he called out.
Mia dirties the dishes | Source: Midjourney
I rolled my eyes. “Sure, Mike,” I said sweetly. I handed him the beer, knowing chaos was about to unfold.
As the first guests started to arrive, Mike finally noticed the mess. “What the heck happened here?” he muttered, looking around the kitchen. “Grandma, did you forget to clean up?”
Grandma, who was resting in the living room, looked confused. “I’m sorry, dear. I must have missed it.”
Mike sees his dirty laundry | Source: Midjourney
Mike huffed and went to the laundry room. He opened the bin and saw his clothes stained and dirty. “Seriously?” he grumbled. “I have nothing to wear!”
He stormed back into the kitchen, where I was setting out snacks. “What’s going on, sis? Why is everything a mess?” he demanded.
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Mike. Maybe you should ask Grandma.”
Mike tries to tidy up his house | Source: Midjourney
He groaned and grabbed a dirty shirt from the bin, reluctantly putting it on. Guests started coming in, and Mike was running around in his stained clothes, trying to clean up.
“Ugh, my grandma was supposed to clean this already,” he muttered to his friend, Tom. “Because of her, I have nothing to wear!”
Tom raised an eyebrow. “Dude, you’re thirty. Are you serious?” he asked, laughing.
High school friends laughing at Mike | Source: Midjourney
Another friend, Jake, smirked. “Yeah, man. Do your own laundry. What’s wrong with you?”
Mike ignored them and kept trying to clean up. Grandma, despite her exhaustion, got up to help him. “I’m sorry, Mike. I can help now,” she said, grabbing a mop.
“You should have done this earlier, Grandma. Now everything’s ruined.”
Sad grandmother looks down | Source: Midjourney
The room fell silent as everyone watched the scene unfold. Mike’s angry speech echoed in the quiet house. “Why can’t you just do your job, Grandma?” he shouted.
People looked at him in disbelief. One of the old teachers, Mr. Parker, shook his head. “Mike, you should be ashamed. She’s your grandmother, not your maid.”
Mike’s face turned red. He looked around at the judgmental faces of his friends and family. Humiliated, he stomped upstairs and locked himself in his room.
Mad Mike | Source: Midjourney
I turned to Grandma, who looked upset. “Don’t worry, Grandma. Let’s enjoy the night,” I said, giving her a hug.
The guests slowly resumed their conversations, the awkwardness fading away. We enjoyed the BBQ, shared stories, and had a good time. Grandma finally relaxed and laughed with her old friends.
Family enjoying a barbecue | Source: Pexels
As the evening went on, I felt a sense of satisfaction. Mike needed to understand what Grandma had been going through. Hopefully, this would be a wake-up call for him to change his ways.
Grandma smiled at me. “Thank you, dear,” she said softly. “I hope he learns from this.”
Mia hugs her grandmother | Source: Midjourney
“I think he will,” I replied, looking up at the darkened window where Mike had retreated. “He has to.”
A Woman Bad-Mouthed Her Future DIL, Only to Realize the Next Day She Was Talking About Me — Story of the Day
I thought I was helping a sharp-tongued customer pick a gift for her son’s girlfriend. But our clash became deeply personal when she came to dinner as my BF’s mother.
The morning light painted the shop windows in soft, golden hues, catching on the frost that had crept up overnight. Inside, the air was warm and rich with the scent of cinnamon and pine. The shelves sparkled with handcrafted treasures—delicate ornaments, carved wooden toys, and intricately decorated candles.
Every day, I sold gifts or helped people choose the perfect present to light up a loved one’s face. People often wandered by, peering through the glass, and their smiles gave me a small rush of pride.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
The familiar chime of the doorbell broke my thoughts. I turned, expecting another friendly face.
The woman’s heels clicked sharply against the wooden floor as she entered, her every movement deliberate, as if choreographed. Her jewelry glittered in a way that felt more commanding than beautiful.
“Good morning,” I offered with my usual warmth.
She barely nodded, her lips forming a polite but strained smile. “I’m looking for a gift. For my son’s girlfriend. We’re meeting tomorrow.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Of course,” I replied, gesturing to a nearby shelf. “We have some lovely…”
“Not those.” She waved a manicured hand dismissively before I could finish. “Too rustic.”
I blinked but kept my tone steady. “How about this?” I reached for a hand-painted jewelry box. “It’s handmade, and the details…”
“Too expensive,” she said sharply, cutting me off again. “For someone who hasn’t yet proven herself worthy? I don’t think so.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
The comment stung more than it should have, but I masked it with a small nod.
“Perhaps a scarf then?” I suggested, holding up a soft woolen one. “It’s practical and elegant…”
“Not her style,” she said, her voice tinged with impatience. Her eyes flicked over me briefly as if she were assessing more than just the shop. “Is this all you have? I thought these little places were supposed to be unique.”
“Every item here is chosen with care,” I said evenly. “I’m sure we can find something.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
She sighed, glancing at her watch.
“I’ll come back later, maybe,” she muttered, though the dismissal in her tone made it clear she wouldn’t.
Without another word, she left, the door shutting behind her with a definitive jingle.
The joy that had filled the shop earlier seemed to dim. I had dealt with difficult customers before. But something about that woman left a sour taste in my mouth.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The next evening, I smoothed the front of my dress, checking my reflection one last time. That night was supposed to be a quiet dinner with my boyfriend Ethan, a chance to unwind after a long week.
As we arrived at the candlelit bistro, Ethan leaned in and whispered, “Oh, by the way, my Mom, Margaret, is joining us. She’s excited to meet you.”
My panic prickled at the edges. “What?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“She’s already here,” Ethan said, gesturing toward the corner. “I didn’t tell you earlier because I didn’t want you to overthink it. Relax, she’s going to love you. Trust me.”
I managed a tight smile, but my nerves coiled tighter with every step. When we reached the table, my heart sank completely.
Margaret. It was her! The woman from the shop. Her sharp gaze met mine, and I saw a flicker of recognition before she quickly masked it with a polite smile.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, this is Grace,” Ethan said warmly. “Grace, my mom, Margaret.”
“Hello,” I said, extending my hand. Her grip was firm but brief, her polished nails catching the low light.
“Grace,” she repeated, her tone neutral, “Ethan’s mentioned you. It’s nice to put a face to the name.”
As we sat down, Margaret immediately took charge of the conversation, her voice smooth and authoritative.
“Ethan, did I tell you about the holiday charity gala coming up?” Margaret began, her eyes sparkling with the kind of enthusiasm that came naturally when she spoke about herself.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“That’s incredible, Mom,” Ethan said, glancing at me with a smile. “She’s always got so much going on. Isn’t that impressive, Grace? Mom’s pretty amazing at juggling it all.”
“It sounds like a lot of work,” I said politely, though Margaret’s focus was already elsewhere.
“Oh, it is. The guest list alone has been a nightmare. Such a headache, but what can you do? These events practically run on connections.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Ethan didn’t miss a beat, turning the conversation back toward me. “You know, Grace has been really busy too. She’s incredible at helping people find the perfect gifts.”
Margaret’s lips curled into a faintly amused smile. “Well, that’s certainly a skill. Perhaps something to chat about another time.”
Ethan squeezed my hand briefly under the table, offering silent reassurance, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. When Ethan left to pay the bill, Margaret turned to me, her polite mask slipping.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“I’m going to be honest,” she began. “You seem nice, but I don’t see you fitting into Ethan’s life long-term. He needs someone who can complement his ambitions. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I swallowed hard, willing myself not to react. There was no point in arguing.
Instead, I met her gaze and nodded politely. Ethan returned moments later, oblivious to the tension, and I plastered on a smile, wishing desperately for the night to end.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
A few days later, I was surprised to find an envelope slipped under my apartment door. Inside was an invitation to Margaret’s charity fair, accompanied by a neatly written note:
Grace, it would be helpful if you could come by a day early to assist with preparations. Margaret.
I stared at it for a long moment, unsure what to make of the gesture. Was this an olive branch, or just another test? Ethan, of course, saw it as a positive sign.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“It’s a great opportunity for her to see how amazing you are,” he said, his eyes filled with encouragement. “Just be yourself. She’ll come around.”
I wasn’t so convinced, but I agreed to go. If nothing else, I thought, it was a chance to support Ethan.
***
When I arrived the next day, the venue was buzzing with activity, though “chaotic” might have been a better word. People in sleek coats and bright scarves darted around, shouting instructions or carrying decorations.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Margaret stood in the center, directing it all like a conductor of an unruly orchestra. “Grace, you’re here. There’s plenty to do.”
She gestured toward a table where two women sat sipping champagne, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes of decorations. They didn’t notice the glitter they were spilling onto the white tablecloths.
“Start with the tables, will you? My friends, Linda and Carol, will help you.” Margaret said, barely glancing at me. “The spills are a disaster, and that glitter is everywhere. It needs to look perfect for tomorrow.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
As I grabbed a cloth to clean up the mess, Linda glanced at me with a smirk.
“Oh, bless you for doing this. Margaret’s got such a keen eye. Everything has to be just so,” she said, giggling as she clinked glasses with Carol.
I swallowed my pride and focused on the work. No matter how deliberate that felt, I reminded myself I was there for Ethan and the cause.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
The evening dragged on, and Margaret’s usual poise began to crack. Her phone rang, and she answered it briskly. But suddenly, she lowered the phone, her face pale and tense.
“What’s wrong?” Linda asked, noticing Margaret’s unusual stillness.
Margaret sank onto a nearby sofa, pressing her fingers to her temples.
“The Christmas souvenirs… They’ve been delayed. There’s nothing to sell tomorrow.”
Panic rippled through the room. For the first time, I saw Margaret’s armor falter.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I hesitated, then stepped forward. “I can help.”
“Help? How? You can’t just fix this, Grace.” Her words were biting, but I could hear the fear beneath them.
“I’ll figure something out,” I replied, keeping my voice steady.
Her doubt stung, but I didn’t let it deter me. Something had to be done, and I knew I could do it.
***
That night, the shop door creaked softly as I pushed it open. I stood still for a moment, taking it all in—the shelves lined with ornaments that glittered faintly in the dim light, the delicate figurines arranged just so, and the jars of sweets stacked in neat rows.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I rolled up my sleeves and began to work, carefully packing the ornaments and arranging them in sturdy boxes. The figurines followed—tiny angels, snowmen, and reindeer, each wrapped in tissue paper to protect their fragile beauty. The sweets in bright wrappers went last.
Hours passed, but I didn’t feel the time. When I finished, the shop looked bare, but my heart felt full. Ethan arrived just as I sealed the last box.
“Grace, are you sure about this?” he asked, gesturing to the stack of boxes. “This is a lot to give.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“It’s what needs to be done,” I said simply, brushing my hair back from my face.
“How can you take all of this without the owner’s permission?”
“Ethan, I am the owner. I’ve been the shopkeeper, the accountant, the cleaner—everything. This shop is mine. I’ve kept it to myself because it’s my sanctuary corner of magic. I didn’t want to share it until I was ready.”
“You’ve been running this place all on your own? That’s incredible, Grace.”
Together, we loaded the car and drove to the venue. By morning, the shop’s treasures adorned the tables, their sparkle transforming the chaotic space into something truly magical.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The following morning, guests wandered through, admiring the ornaments and figurines, their smiles proof that the effort had been worth it.
Margaret approached me just as the last of the guests were leaving, her expression thoughtful and her tone uncharacteristically soft.
“Grace,” she began. “I owe you an apology.”
“There’s no need…”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“No, let me finish,” she said firmly. “I misjudged you from the start. When Ethan first mentioned you, I assumed… well, I assumed wrong. What you did tonight, saving the charity fair like that, was extraordinary. And you didn’t even hesitate.”
Her eyes glistened, though she quickly looked away as if to hide it. “I insist on paying for every single souvenir you brought. It’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you, Margaret.”
“I’d like you to spend Christmas with us. Here. As a family.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I hesitated, unsure if she meant it, but the sincerity in her expression was undeniable.
“I’d love that,” I said finally.
That evening, as we all gathered around the table, Margaret was no longer the stern, unyielding woman I had met in the shop or at dinner.
Ethan caught my eye across the table. That night, he shared how much it meant to him to see his mother open up, to see her finally embracing the people he cared about. It was a Christmas I would never forget.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I thought I had found the perfect Christmas romance—a man who seemed to bring magic into my life. But as the snow fell and the holidays approached, I uncovered a truth that turned my world upside down and left me questioning everything I believed about love and trust. Read the full story here.
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