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.”
My Husband Came Home Holding a Crying Baby
When Anna’s husband walked through the door holding a crying baby, her world turned upside down. Years later, the child she raised as her own is faced with a life-altering choice.
The scent of garlic and onions filled the small kitchen as I stirred a pot of soup. It had been a long day, and I was trying to distract myself by perfecting dinner. The house felt too quiet, as it often did.
A woman tasting her dish | Source: Pexels
My husband, David, was late coming home again, but I wasn’t surprised. His work as a delivery driver sometimes ran long. I wiped my hands on a dish towel, glancing at the clock.
“Seven-thirty,” I muttered. “What else is new?”
The garage door rumbled open, and I felt a flicker of relief. David was finally home. But then I heard something strange. A baby crying.
A crying baby | Source: Pexels
I frowned, drying my hands quickly. We didn’t have kids. We tried countless times until we found out I couldn’t get pregnant.
“David?” I called out, walking toward the front door.
When I stepped into the hallway, I froze. There he was, standing in the open doorway, holding a baby bundled in a soft, gray blanket.
A man holding a baby | Source: Freepik
“Hi,” he said, his voice shaky.
“David…” My eyes darted to the tiny face peeking out from the blanket. “What is that?”
“It’s a baby,” he replied, as if I couldn’t hear the piercing cries filling the room.
“I can see that,” I snapped, taking a step closer. “But why are you holding a baby?”
A shocked blonde woman | Source: Freepik
“I found him,” David said softly, his eyes wide. “On our doorstep.”
I cut him off. “Wait. Someone left a baby on our doorstep? Like some kind of… I don’t know… a movie or something?”
“I’m serious, Anna,” he said. “There was no note, nothing. Just him.”
A man holding a baby | Source: Pexels
The baby whimpered, and David adjusted the blanket again. “He was so cold, Anna. I couldn’t leave him out there.”
“Let me see him.” My voice came out more forceful than I intended.
David hesitated but finally stepped closer. He peeled back the edge of the blanket, revealing a tiny hand. My breath caught in my throat.
A shocked woman holding a newborn baby | Source: Midjourney
“Anna, are you okay?” David asked, watching my face.
I didn’t answer. My eyes were glued to the baby’s hand. A small, crescent-shaped birthmark rested near his thumb. My knees felt weak.
“Anna,” David repeated, more urgently. “What’s wrong?”
A close-up of a newborn baby’s head | Source: Pexels
“This can’t be,” I whispered.
Six months ago, my younger sister, Lily, had stormed out of my life. The fight was stupid, but the damage it caused wasn’t. She had called me judgmental; I had called her irresponsible. Neither of us had apologized.
Two women arguing | Source: Freepik
When Lily left, she vanished completely. No calls. No messages. Nothing. I’d convinced myself she didn’t care, though I never stopped thinking about her.
But now, staring at that birthmark, the truth hit me like a wave. This baby wasn’t just any baby.
“He’s Lily’s,” I said.
A serious woman holding a baby | Source: Midjourney
David frowned. “What?”
“The birthmark,” I said, pointing to the tiny crescent shape. “Lily has the same one on her wrist. It runs in the family.”
He looked at the baby’s hand, then back at me. “You’re saying this baby is your nephew?”
I nodded, my heart pounding.
A side shot of a woman holding a baby | Source: Midjourney
“But… I didn’t even know Lily was pregnant,” David said.
“Neither did I,” I whispered.
A mix of anger and sadness surged through me. “Why didn’t she tell me? Why would she leave her baby here?”
David looked as lost as I felt. “I don’t know, Anna. But what do we do now?”
A man holding a baby on his shoulder | Source: Pexels
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The baby’s soft whimpers filled the silence. I reached out and touched his tiny hand, feeling its warmth against my skin.
I shook my head. “We should call someone. The police, maybe. Or social services.”
David’s jaw tightened. “You really think they’ll take better care of him than us? He’s family, Anna.”
A serious man | Source: Pexels
I blinked back tears, feeling torn in two. For years, I’d dreamed of holding a baby in my arms. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.
The baby let out a soft cry, and David rocked him gently. “Look at him, Anna,” he said. “He’s just a baby. He didn’t ask for any of this.”
A close-up shot of a father with his baby | Source: Freepik
I took a deep breath, my mind racing. “If we do this… if we keep him… it’s not just for tonight, David. It’s for life.”
He nodded. “I know.”
I looked at the baby again, his tiny face scrunched up in sleep. My heart ached, torn between fear and something else—a small, fragile hope.
A woman holding a baby | Source: Pexels
The years had flown by, but every moment with Ethan felt like a gift. At 13, he was tall for his age, with dark curls that always seemed unruly and a grin that could light up a room. He called me “Mom,” and David “Dad,” and I never got tired of hearing it.
Our home was filled with the sounds of his laughter, his endless questions, and the occasional thud of a basketball against the garage door. He was a good kid, full of heart.
A happy teenager | Source: Pexels
“Ethan!” I called from the kitchen one afternoon. “Don’t forget your lunchbox. You left it on the counter again!”
“Got it, Mom!” he shouted back, running through the house.
David appeared behind me, sipping his coffee. “Thirteen years,” he said, shaking his head. “Feels like yesterday when we found him.”
A couple talking over breakfast | Source: Pexels
I smiled. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to us.”
David leaned in to kiss my cheek, but before he could, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” Ethan hollered, already halfway to the door.
I wiped my hands on a towel, following him. When Ethan opened the door, I stopped in my tracks.
A shocked woman | Source: Freepik
Lily stood there, dressed in an elegant coat, her heels clicking on the porch as she shifted her weight. Her diamond earrings sparkled, and her face—though older—was as striking as I remembered.
“Anna,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I need to talk to you.”
A rich woman | Source: Pexels
We sat in the living room, the air thick with tension. Ethan hovered nearby, watching the woman who was his birth mother with cautious curiosity.
“Ethan,” I said gently, “why don’t you give us a moment?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay, Mom,” he said, disappearing upstairs.
A teenage boy by the stairs | Source: Midjourney
Lily’s eyes followed him, a mixture of longing and guilt flashing across her face.
“Why are you here, Lily?” I asked, my voice steady but cold.
She looked at me, her eyes filling with tears. “I made a mistake, Anna. A terrible mistake. I never should have left him. I wasn’t ready then, but I am now.”
A crying woman | Source: Pexels
I felt my chest tighten. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want my son back,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can give him everything now. A big house, the best schools, opportunities you can’t even imagine. He deserves that.”
Before I could say anything, Ethan appeared, his gaze locked on Lily.
An angry teenage boy | Source: Freepik
“You’re my birth mom, aren’t you?” he asked bluntly.
Lily blinked, startled by his question. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I am. I’ve come to take you home with me.”
Ethan didn’t flinch. “Home? This is my home.”
A woman talking to an angry teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
Her face softened, and she reached out as if to touch him. “I know this is sudden, but I can give you so much, Ethan. A better life. A bigger house, the best schools, anything you could want.”
Ethan took a step back, shaking his head. “You think I care about that? You don’t even know me.”
Lily’s hand dropped, her expression faltering. “Ethan, I—”
A close-up shot of a crying woman | Source: Pexels
“You don’t know my favorite food. You don’t know I’m terrible at spelling but great at math. You weren’t there when I broke my arm in third grade or when I got my first basketball trophy,” he said, his voice rising.
“Ethan,” I said softly, but he kept going.
A teenage boy signing a cross | Source: Freepik
“They were there,” he said, pointing at me and David. “They’ve been there every single day. You’re a stranger to me.”
Lily’s eyes glistened with tears. “I know I made mistakes, but I’m your mother, Ethan. That’s a bond that can’t be broken.”
He squared his shoulders, his voice firm. “Family isn’t about blood. It’s about love. And I already have a family. I’m not going anywhere.”
A boy with his arms crossed | Source: Midjourney
Lily’s shoulders sagged, the weight of his words sinking in. She turned to me, her expression a mixture of guilt and resignation.
“You’ve raised him well, Anna,” she said quietly. “I can see how much he loves you.”
I nodded, my voice steady but kind. “He’s happy, Lily. That’s all we’ve ever wanted for him.”
A serious woman | Source: Freepik
Lily gave Ethan one last, lingering look, then turned to leave. As the door closed behind her, Ethan let out a long breath.
“You okay?” I asked, pulling him into a hug.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice muffled against my shoulder. “I just… I don’t get how she could leave me like that.”
A woman hugging her son | Source: Midjourney
David joined us, placing a hand on Ethan’s back. “Sometimes people make mistakes they can’t undo. But you’ve got us, kiddo. Always.”
A week ago, God rewarded me with my own child. I found out that I was pregnant.
A happy woman a pregnancy test | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided as “is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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