MIL Took Back the Bicycle She Gifted My Daughter for Her Birthday – For a Ridiculous Reason
Jean’s sixth birthday morning had been perfect.
“Mom! Look what Grandma got me!” Jean’s excited voice echoed through the house.
Stepping onto the porch, I found my mother-in-law, Jacqueline, standing beside a dazzling pink bicycle. It gleamed in the sunlight, complete with handlebar streamers, a white basket decorated with plastic daisies, and a silver bell that chimed when Jean pressed it.
This was… unexpected. In the seven years I’d known Jacqueline, generosity had never been her strong suit. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Well, I’m her grandmother, and my granddaughter deserves the best!”
“Of course.” I forced a smile. “Would you like to come in? The party’s about to start.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replied, her voice syrupy sweet as she followed me inside. She patted my arm in a way that made my skin crawl. “Just seeing my granddaughter happy with her gift is enough.”
Five Days Later
I was folding laundry when I heard the familiar crunch of tires on our gravel driveway. Peering through the window, I saw Jacqueline’s silver sedan pull up. Her gaze locked onto Jean’s bicycle, resting against the porch wall. Without hesitation, she lunged for it.
“What are you doing?” My voice sharpened as she wrestled with the kickstand.
“I need to take this back,” she muttered, not even bothering to look at me.
Behind me, Jean’s small voice wavered. “Grandma? Why are you taking my bike?”
Jacqueline crouched down, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, I just need to borrow it for a little while.”
Then, straightening up, she dropped the act. “Teresa, I need the bike back. I guess Jean and you don’t deserve it.” She sighed dramatically, flipping her perfectly highlighted hair. “Mia saw it at the party, and now she won’t stop crying for the same one. Kate insists I get her one.”
Ah. Mia. My niece and, clearly, the golden grandchild. At seven years old, she was already as entitled as her mother.
Jacqueline’s smile remained fixed. “I would buy her one, but money’s a little tight right now.”
“So your solution is to take back the gift you already gave Jean?”
“She’s six! She won’t even remember!”
“Oh, she’ll remember, Jacqueline,” I said, my voice turning ice-cold.
The Perfect Payback
That evening, I paced our bedroom, my anger simmering. Adam sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.
A plan took shape—deliciously petty and absolutely perfect. I grinned. “Let’s give her exactly what she wants.”
Lowering my voice, I leaned in. “Remember the lakeside cabin we were considering for her 60th birthday?”
Adam’s brow furrowed. “Yeah…?”
“Well,” I said, drawing out the moment, “we should announce it now. Publicly. Then make it very clear… she’s not getting it anymore.”
His eyes widened before a slow, wicked smile spread across his face.
The next evening, I went all out—roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and Jacqueline’s favorite lemon pie.
“This is a lovely surprise,” she said, handing me a bottle of wine. “Though I’m not sure what we’re celebrating.”
The room quieted.
“I just want to take a moment to appreciate Jacqueline,” I began, my tone honeyed. “She’s such a thoughtful grandmother. She even went out of her way to make sure another grandchild got the same special birthday experience.”
Adam stood beside me, playing his part flawlessly. “And because of that, we had planned something special.”
I nodded. “We were going to gift you a fully paid-for lakeside cabin… since you always talk about wanting a peaceful retreat for your golden years.”
Jacqueline’s face lit up.
Adam sighed dramatically. “But after what happened with Jean’s birthday gift, we had a realization…”
I savored the moment. “So, instead, we’ve decided to put that money into a special savings account.”
Jacqueline’s hopeful expression flickered. “For… for me?”
I beamed. “Oh, no. For Jean. So she can buy herself a new bike if someone ever takes one from her again.”
Jacqueline’s hands trembled as she set down her fork. “This is ridiculous. You’re punishing me over a child’s toy?”
She shot me a venomous glare, grabbed her purse, and stormed out.
A Lesson Learned
The next morning, as I watered the flowers, Jacqueline’s silver sedan pulled into the driveway once more.
Without a word, she pulled Jean’s bicycle from the trunk, set it down, and drove off.
A small hand slipped into mine. Jean looked up at me, wide-eyed.
I smiled as she rang the silver bell, her laughter ringing through the morning air.
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