My Daughter-in-Law Kept Coming Empty-Handed Until I Stopped My Son From Taking the Lobster
Around mid-day, I drove to Ocean Seafood Market. The Seattle drizzle made the parking lot glisten. Mr. Johnson stood behind the fish counter, as he had for as long as I could remember. "What are we cooking today, Mrs. Thompson?" "Seafood for the family."
"Then I'd better get the best catches." He picked out big, fresh lobsters, succulent shrimp, and plump scallops. When everything was weighed, it came to ten pounds. "Sometimes family has big appetites." I laughed, thinking he was joking.
Later, I realized his words had a deeper meaning. I paid $350 and loaded the bags into my car.
Craig used to be such a kind and helpful son. He was 30, hard-working, and smart. As a kid, he'd help me set the table without being asked.
I don't think Lisa changed him overnight. Life's never that easy. But little by little, Craig became quieter around her. He'd look at her face before answering questions. He'd cancel plans if she didn't want to go.
Whenever she made a snide comment, Craig would laugh nervously, hoping we'd all ignore it.
Lisa was good-looking in a very polished way. Her hair was always perfect, her nails were always manicured, and her perfume was expensive. Her smile seemed warm in pictures, but it rarely reached her eyes.
Her mother, Grace, was 58, divorced, and very proud of being "choosy." That's what Lisa liked to call it. In my experience, "choosy" meant Grace criticized everything while expecting people to praise her for being honest. Still, I kept inviting her.
I told myself she was alone. I told myself maybe she needed a family. That was one of my biggest mistakes. I'd always mixed generosity with silence.
On Friday evening, I called Craig to confirm the plans. "We'll be there tomorrow," he said. "Sure. Lisa is excited. Grace would also like to come. Is that okay?" He sounded relieved, like he'd thought I'd say no. I should've paid more attention.
When they arrived on Saturday, Lisa and Grace walked in with coolers but nothing to contribute. Craig just followed behind. During the meal, they ate heartily.
And after the meal, I watched in disbelief as Craig started packing the leftover lobster into the coolers without asking.
I finally spoke up. "Stop right there." Those three words made the whole backyard go quiet.
I told them that I'd always been generous, but I wasn't going to be taken advantage of anymore. Craig looked ashamed, and Lisa and Grace were shocked.
After that, there was an awkward silence. But in the end, they left without the lobster. And from that day on, I decided to be more careful with my generosity. I learned that sometimes, you have to stand up for yourself in your own family.
