I thought my mom had turned time with her grandson into a transaction. Then one strange detail made me realize I had no idea what she was doing.
“I can’t.”
I stared at my mother through the phone like she could somehow see my face.
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
There was a pause.
Then she said, “I can’t stop charging you.”
I actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because I had spent the last two months trying to understand why my 66-year-old mother had suddenly turned babysitting her own grandson into a cash-only business.
“Mom, that makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“No, seriously. You used to get offended if we hired someone else.”
“I remember.”
“You used to say, ‘Bring me my grandson.'”
“I remember that too.”
“Now it’s $40 every time he walks through your door.”
Another pause.
Then she said quietly, “I need you to trust me a little longer.”
That did not help.
“Trust you with what?”
She sighed.
“I can’t explain yet.”
I felt my irritation come rushing back.
“Then don’t be surprised when we stop asking you to babysit.”
Her voice changed immediately.
“Please don’t do that.”
“Then tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t.”
There it was: that word again.
Not I won’t.
I Can’t.
I should probably explain why this had become such a big deal.
My mom, Diane, has watched my son Caleb since he was a baby.
Not every day.
Usually when my husband Ryan and I got stuck at work, had appointments, or wanted the occasional dinner where nobody asked us to cut chicken into smaller pieces.
Mom always volunteered. Actually, “volunteered” is too mild.
She practically demanded access.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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