Every time my grandkids asked for money, I gave. No questions. I believed them when they said it was for books, projects, or school trips.
I wanted them to feel supported, and I thought I was helping. But one day, I overheard my daughter-in-law talking on the phone, saying she couldn’t afford a spa day. The very next afternoon, after the kids had come by and I slipped them some bills, I learned she had gone straight to the spa.
My heart sank. The money wasn’t being used for my grandchildren at all—it was being funneled into her luxuries. When I confronted her, she looked me in the eye and said, “It’s none of your concern, but your son and I agreed this was easier than asking you directly.”
That cut deeper than I expected.
It wasn’t just about money—it was about trust, about using my love for the children as a disguise for her own wants. That night, I had a long talk with my son. I explained that generosity works only when paired with honesty.
We agreed the children would still get what they truly needed—but through me directly, not as secret handouts. My daughter-in-law wasn’t pleased, but over time she realized that respect and openness mattered more than shortcuts. And my grandkids?
