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.”
When My MIL Handed Me a ‘Good Wife’ Rulebook on My Wedding Day, My Husband Got Rich!
You think you’re entering a dream when you marry the person you love. But that dream can quickly become a nightmare when you receive a list of rules about how to be a “good wife.” This is where my revenge started.
As a child, I always imagined that marriage would be different. I pictured Sunday mornings in bed, sharing laughs and secrets, and a partnership based on love and respect. But reality has a strange way of surprising you.
Dan and I had just gotten married. The wedding was perfect—small, intimate, everything I had always dreamed of. For a while, it felt like a fairy tale. Dan was kind and funny, and I truly believed we shared the same ideas about how we wanted to live our lives together. That was until Karen, his mother, gave me a gift after the ceremony.
I remember standing in our living room, still feeling happy from the wedding, when Karen came up to me with her “special” present.
“This is for you, Lucia. A little something to help you as you start your new role.” She handed me a fancy box with a big smile, but her eyes didn’t match her cheerful expression.
Inside the box was a neatly folded piece of paper. When I opened it, my mouth dropped. At the top, in bold letters, it said: “How to Be a Good Wife for My Son.”
At first, I laughed, thinking it was a joke. Maybe Karen was making fun of those old-fashioned ideas about marriage.
But as I kept reading, my smile faded. It was a real list—actual rules I was supposed to follow as Dan’s wife.
I looked at Dan, hoping he’d be as shocked as I was, but he was busy opening his own gift. A check. A big one, too. And me? I got a rulebook.
Later that evening, Dan came to me with a sheepish grin. “You got the rules my mom gave you, didn’t you?” he asked, as if it were just a casual suggestion, not a guide for a life of serving him.
“Yep… I did,” I replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice but not succeeding.
Dan shifted awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, you know, that’s just how it is now. Marriage is different from dating.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to smile, to say it was all a joke. But he didn’t.
“Wait… You’re serious?” I asked, looking at him like I didn’t recognize the man I had just married.
He shrugged. “It’s just how things are. Mom says it’s important to keep order, you know?”
I bit my lip, holding back a sharp reply. Keep order. That’s how they saw me now?
After Dan fell asleep, I read through the list again, my hands shaking with anger. I couldn’t believe the nerve.
At 6 a.m., I had to be fully dressed and made up, cooking a hot breakfast for Dan. No veggies, no milk, no butter—he only likes plain eggs and toast. The toast must be perfectly golden brown, and it has to be served on a blue plate because the green one ruins his appetite.
Do all the grocery shopping myself. Dan hates shopping, and it’s no place for a man. Always buy his favorite beer, but not too much—just enough for football nights, but not so much he gets lazy. And I had to carry everything in myself because it’s unladylike to ask for help.
After dinner, the kitchen had to be spotless before Dan even left the dining room. Men shouldn’t see a mess; they must enter a clean space. And always stack the plates by size, wiping the counters twice because Dan hates crumbs.
Dress conservatively when Dan’s friends come over. We don’t want them thinking I’m too “modern” or that I’m not the “right kind of wife.” A good wife never wears anything above the knee, and the neckline should always be high. Anything else would embarrass Dan in front of his buddies.
Make sure Dan never does his laundry. A good wife always has fresh, ironed clothes ready, and socks folded just right—three folds, not two—because that’s how Dan likes them. He should never have to pick out mismatched socks or wear a wrinkled shirt. It reflects poorly on me if he does.
By the time I finished reading, I was furious. This wasn’t just outdated advice; it was a full-on expectation that I cater to Dan’s every wish like I had no other purpose.
And the worst part? Dan was okay with it. He hadn’t even reacted when I mentioned the rules.
I felt trapped, but I wasn’t going to let them get away with this. If they wanted to play this game, I’d play along, but on my terms.
The morning after I read Karen’s list, I woke up at 6 a.m., just like the rules said. I got out of bed, put on my makeup, and slipped into a nice dress.
I looked at myself in the mirror, quietly laughing at how silly this all was. But if Karen wanted me to play this part, I would—just with a twist.
I went downstairs and made breakfast, just like the rules said: plain toast and eggs. But I didn’t stop there. I took the tiniest slice of toast and a plain boiled egg and put them on Dan’s huge blue plate. The plate was so big that the small meal looked ridiculous.
I carefully set it on the table, smiling sweetly as Dan walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.
He looked at the plate, confused. “Isn’t there… anything else?”
I shook my head, smiling brightly. “Just following the rules. Plain eggs and toast! Want me to make another slice?”
Dan sighed, picking up the toast. “No… this is fine.”
I stood there watching him eat the driest breakfast ever, trying not to laugh. Oh, this was going to be entertaining.
Later that afternoon, I made a big show of going to the grocery store. I took my reusable bags and left the house, making sure Dan saw me go by myself, just like the rules said.
When I got back, I carried in all the bags myself, even the heavy ones. Dan watched from the couch, clearly uncomfortable but saying nothing. As I unpacked, he frowned.
“Where’s the beer? Did you forget it?” he asked.
“Oh no, I didn’t forget,” I said cheerfully. “I just didn’t want you getting lazy. Besides, sparkling water is good for you!”
I pulled out a six-pack of sparkling water, a big bottle of green juice, and some quinoa, knowing he wouldn’t touch any of them. Dan’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. I could see he was starting to realize something was off, but I was just getting started.
After dinner, I followed the other rules in the letter. I wiped down the counters, washed the dishes, and cleaned the kitchen—but not really.
Instead of putting everything back where it belonged, I rearranged the whole kitchen. Plates went in the bathroom cupboard, utensils in the laundry room, and the toaster? I put that in the hall closet.
Dan came into the kitchen, looking around in confusion. “Why is everything all over the place?”
I turned to him with a worried look. “I’m doing my best! Maybe I need to wipe the counters three times instead of two?”
He blinked at me, totally confused, but he let it go. The fun was just beginning.
When Dan’s friends came over for football night a few days later, I made sure to follow Karen’s rule about dressing modestly. I dug through my closet and found the most old-fashioned outfit I could: a long skirt, high-collared blouse, and a buttoned-up cardigan that looked like something from the 1800s.
As soon as Dan’s friends arrived, I walked into the living room with a tray of snacks. His friends looked me up and down, confused but polite enough not to say anything.
Dan pulled me aside as soon as he could, whispering, “You know you don’t have to dress like that, right?”
I widened my eyes innocently. “But your mom said I have to dress modestly. We wouldn’t want them getting the wrong idea about me, would we?”
Dan’s friends exchanged awkward glances, but I kept smiling sweetly. The look on Dan’s face was priceless; he was starting to see that I was flipping this whole “good wife” idea upside down, and he was stuck going along with it.
Laundry day came, and I followed the rules again, but with a twist. I washed all of Dan’s clothes together: whites, darks, colors—everything went in one load. When I pulled them out, his once-clean shirts were now a lovely shade of pink, and his socks were either shrunk or mismatched.
Dan opened his drawer the next morning, pulling out one wrinkled pink shirt after another. “What happened to my clothes? These socks don’t even match!”
I walked in with an apologetic look. “Oh no! I must’ve messed up. I’ll try folding them in threes next time, just like the rules say.”
He groaned, putting on his mismatched socks before heading to work, completely defeated. I couldn’t help but smile.
By the end of the week, Dan had had enough. He was trying to eat yet another bland breakfast when Karen arrived, her usual smile on her face. She sat at the table, looking pleased.
“Lucia, I’m so glad to see you following the rules! Isn’t life easier now?”
I laughed quietly. “Oh, Karen, you have no idea.”
Dan slammed his fork down, surprising both of us. “Mom, we need to talk.”
Karen blinked, confused. “Talk about what?”
“These rules… they’re crazy,” Dan said, his voice rising. “I’m miserable, Lucia’s miserable, and this isn’t how we’re going to live.”
Karen looked shocked. “But, Dan, I just want to make sure you’re taken care of! I thought this was how marriage should be!”
Dan shot me a glance, and I shrugged. I was just following the rules, right?
“We need to find our own way,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re my wife, not my maid.”
Karen’s face fell, her smile fading. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t mean to upset you both…”
But it was too late. The damage was done. We spent the next few days talking about what we wanted our marriage to look like, finally finding a balance between his mom’s outdated ideas and our modern life.
The change didn’t happen overnight, but eventually, we found a way to laugh about the whole ordeal, especially when Dan had to explain to his mom why he was now making breakfast for me on Saturdays.
Karen never brought up the rules again, and I made sure to return the fancy box she gave me, filled with the crumpled paper and an assortment of mismatched socks. I told her I didn’t need them anymore.
Looking back, I can’t help but think that her gift, while ridiculous, actually brought us closer together. Dan and I learned how to communicate better, and we established what we wanted from our marriage without anyone else’s rules getting in the way.
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