

I’ve always considered myself a loving, supportive grandmother. Family has always come first in my life. So when my daughter-in-law, Jessica, asked me to watch my grandson, Luke, for the weekend, I didn’t hesitate. I adore that little boy. Time with him is never a chore—it’s a gift.
It was supposed to be a normal weekend. I packed my overnight bag, brought some snacks for Luke and me, and headed over to their house on Friday afternoon. Jessica and my son, Aaron, were headed out of town for a well-deserved break, and they trusted me to care for Luke. I’d done it before, many times. This was just part of being Grandma.
But what I returned home to left me absolutely floored.
After dropping Luke off with his parents on Sunday, I got back home and was looking forward to a quiet evening. That’s when I saw it—a small envelope on my kitchen table, neatly addressed in Jessica’s handwriting. At first, I thought it was a thank-you note. A little gesture of appreciation, maybe.
Instead, it was a bill.
Inside was an itemized list of “expenses” from the weekend: