Christmas at the in-laws’ house was always tricky, but this year, I promised Jeff I’d play nice. After a long four-hour drive, we arrived at Brenda’s — Jeff’s mom — and I immediately set to work getting the kids settled and placing the gifts I’d carefully selected for them under the tree: Ben’s LEGO Star Wars set and Emma’s rare plush unicorn that had taken weeks to track down.
By the time the kids were in bed, I was exhausted and just wanted a break. I let the excitement die down and went to bed early, hoping for some peace before the chaos of Christmas morning.
The kids woke up at dawn, full of energy. “It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!” they chanted as they raced down the hall. I rubbed my eyes and grinned as I grabbed my camera to capture the moment. Ben tore into his presents first and held up the LEGO set with a shout of triumph. “Wow, Grandma! You knew exactly what I wanted!”
My smile faltered. “What did you say, sweetheart?”
“Look, Grandma got me this!” Ben repeated, waving the box around.
Emma then hugged her unicorn and said, “Look, Mom! Grandma got me this! She’s the best!”
My stomach dropped. Something was very wrong. I glanced over at Brenda, who was perched on the couch, sipping a mimosa with a smug smile on her face. My gifts, wrapped with such care, were now being credited to her.
“Brenda,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “what’s going on?”
She just smiled and said, “Oh, I love seeing the joy on their faces. Isn’t that what Christmas is all about?”
A mature woman seated on a sofa smiling smugly | Source: Midjourney
I looked at the tags on the gifts. They were not mine. Brenda had swapped them. My neatly handwritten tags were replaced with ones that read “Love, Grandma.” I felt my anger boil but kept it in check, not wanting to ruin the kids’ day.
Later, I found the evidence: my original tags, crumpled and tossed into the trash. The petty act of stealing credit for my hard work hit me hard. I stormed back inside, ready to confront her, but Jeff intercepted me. “Not now,” he said firmly. “Not in front of the kids.”
Reluctantly, I agreed, but I knew this wasn’t over. The next morning, I planned my revenge. I gathered everyone in the living room and presented Brenda with a gift — a framed family photo from last summer. “I spent so much time picking out the perfect frame for you,” I said, watching her face light up with glee.
She tore into the paper, eagerly scanning the photo, but then froze. She wasn’t in it. I pretended to be concerned. “Oh, I must have grabbed the wrong one! My bad! But don’t you love seeing the joy on everyone else’s faces?”
Brenda’s smile faltered, and she quickly recovered, but the damage was done.
A few days later, Brenda called, angry. “The tablet I got Ben for Christmas — I tried to register the warranty, but the store flagged it as fraud!”
I feigned confusion. “Fraud?” I asked, playing innocent.
“Yes! They said the name on the warranty didn’t match my account!” she snapped, her voice rising.
I knew exactly what had happened. The kids had probably let slip that I had bought the tablet, and Brenda, trying to claim credit, had attempted to register the warranty under her name, triggering the fraud alert.
“Well, I hope you figure it out,” I said sweetly, fighting the urge to laugh. I could hear her frustration as she fumbled for words, but all I could do was smile to myself.
By New Year’s, Brenda had noticeably toned down her dramatic acts and avoided discussing Christmas gifts. Jeff later had a quiet conversation with her about boundaries, and it seemed to have worked.
In the end, I sat back, sipping my coffee, and let karma take care of the rest.
