It’s not easy to be a parent of a haughty, disrespectful adolescent, and parents use numerous strategies to discipline their kids.
A mother named Heidi Johnson shared a handwritten letter she penned to her son Aaron on Facebook. She had no idea the post would become very popular. She had no intention of making the post public at all. Although it was only intended for her friends to see, she is not sorry that she posted it online.
Johnson chastised her 13-year-old son for treating her like a “roommate” in a letter to him. She continued by giving him an itemized bill totaling more than $700 for food, rent, and other expenses. She would treat him like a roommate if he was going to treat her like that rather than his mother.
Johnson wrote, “Love Mom,” on the note, and she genuinely does adore her son. She wrote a second post in response, giving some more information on the circumstances. “I am not going to put my 13-year-old on the street if he can’t pay his half of the rent,” she promised parents who were condemning her. I don’t want him to make any payment. I want him to value the blessings and gifts we have, and to take pride in his house and surroundings.
She went on to say that she never meant for Aaron to cover the cost. Rather, she desired that him “acquire an understanding of what things cost.” Johnson wanted her kid to know “what life would look like if I was not his ‘parent,’ but rather a ‘roommate,’” so she penned the note. It was from the start a lesson in appreciation and decency.
Johnson added that her son had lied to her before she wrote the note about finishing his homework, and that he had said, “Well, I am making money now,” in response to her warning that she would be limiting his internet access. She clarified that the money he was talking about was a small amount of money he was earning from his YouTube channel, not nearly enough to cover his rent and food expenses.
Johnson’s relationship with her son has not been harmed by the public statement. “He and I still talk as openly as ever,” she clarified. He has expressed regret several times.
Since she sent the note to her kid, Johnson has also been asked for guidance by parents. As she puts it, “People feel comfortable coming to me and asking for advice, venting, or even just having someone bear witness to their experience by listening, opening up, and sharing a piece of myself in return. It seems like my post has opened a door.”
A Blind Elderly Woman Asked Me to Walk Her Home — The Next Day, Her Sons Showed Up on My Doorstep with the Police
It had been six months since I had lost my father, and while life went on, the sadness remained.
I found peace in visiting his tomb once a week and sharing with him things I could no longer say.
I stood by his grave with a bunch of white lilies, his favorite.
“Goodbye, Dad,” I muttered, wiping away a tear.
As I turned to go, I observed a thin figure standing a few rows away next to a recently dug grave. An elderly blind woman wearing a plain black outfit grasped a white cane.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said softly, approaching her. “Do you need help?”
She turned her head toward me, her lips curving into a slight smile. “Oh, thank you, dear. I’d appreciate it if you could walk me home. My sons were supposed to pick me up, but I think they’ve forgotten.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’d be happy to help.”
She introduced herself as Kira. Her husband, Samuel, had pa:ss:ed away just days before.
“They didn’t even wait with me at the cemetery,” she continued bitterly. “My sons, Ethan and Mark. They said they’d come back in half an hour, but I waited two hours. Samuel always said they’d be the death of me, but I didn’t want to believe him.”
We arrived at her modest home, a charming brick house encircled by a rose garden. “Would you like to come inside for tea?” she inquired.
The inside was warm and pleasant, with faded photos on the walls. One drew my attention: a younger Kira and a man I guessed was Samuel, their hands intertwined, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower.
“Samuel installed cameras all over the house,” Kira explained as she poured tea. “He did not trust the boys.
I had no idea how much that small act of kindness would change my life.
The next morning, I was startled awake by a banging on my door. My heart raced as I stumbled out of bed, still half sleepy.
I opened the door to discover two men looking at me, flanked by a police officer. One of the men, maybe 35, broad-shouldered and enraged, pointed at me. “That’s her! She was in our mother’s house yesterday!”
“I walked her home from the ce:m:etery yesterday.”
The younger of the two males, approximately 25, took a stride toward me, his face flushed with rage. “And then what? You decided to rob her blind?”
“Mom told us you were in her house. She said you stayed for tea. Who else would’ve taken the money and jewelry?”
“This has to be a mistake. I didn’t take anything!”
How had things gone so wrong?
Kira was already at the station, seated in a corner with her cane resting on her knee. Her face lit up when she spotted me.
“Thank goodness,” she said, reaching out for my hand. “I told them you didn’t do it.” “And because they’re greedy.”
“Samuel installed cameras in the house, remember? Officer, I told you to check the recordings.”
Ethan’s face became pallid. “Mom, you don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, I think I do,” Kira shot back. “I’m tired of covering for you boys.”
One hour later, the corps returned carrying a laptop. “See?” I said, relief washing over me. “I didn’t take anything!”
Moments after my leaving, Ethan and Mark arrived in the picture, digging through drawers and cabinets. They emptied jewelry cases and took cash from an envelope stashed in a cookie jar.
Ethan stammered, “We… we were looking for paperwork!”
The brothers were arrested on the scene and charged with larceny and making a fake report.
I was free to leave, but the encounter had left a bitter taste in my mouth. As I accompanied Kira home that evening, she opened up more about her family.
“Samuel adored them when they were younger,” she said. “But as they grew older, they changed. They became greedy, always asking for money, never giving back.”
In the weeks that followed the horrific incident, I found myself pulled to Kira’s house more frequently than I anticipated. Our original bond, formed in the most unlikely of circumstances, strengthened with each visit.
“Maybe Samuel sent you to me.” Kira said.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For being my light in a dark moment.”
“Sometimes, strangers become family in ways you never expect.”
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