My MIL Ruined Our Daughter’s Tiny Kitchen ‘For Her Own Good’ – We Taught Her Actions Have Consequences

A disagreement with Simon’s mother, Eleanor, resulted from Grace and Simon’s distinct parenting style. The family’s unity was in jeopardy when an apparently benign plan for their daughter’s freedom was ruined. To what extent would they justify their decisions?

I am six months pregnant with a boy, and my husband Simon and I have a daughter, Hope, who is five years old. Our lives are joyful despite being hectic. As Hope’s parents, Simon and I think she should have some autonomy, particularly with regard to eating.

We want her to make healthy decisions and be aware of her body’s requirements. We gave her a cute small kitchen that is only partially functional in order to encourage this.

“Simon, do you think the pump is strong enough?” One Saturday morning, as I watched him tinker with the small sink, I asked. He brushed a lock of hair out of his face and grinned.

“Grace, it will do the job. Simply wait and see. I’m sure Hope will adore it.

Simon set up a sink with a weak pump and a compact fridge in the tiny kitchen. Hope kept a variety of goodies there, including chocolates and bananas.

She was free to take whatever she wanted and even “cook” small items like muesli or fruit salad. She adored helping us cook, but of course, she was not allowed to do anything dangerous. Because she could have sweets and chips whenever she wanted, this arrangement prevented her from going crazy over them.

Hope loved cooking in her kitchen. “Look, Mommy! “I made a fruit salad!” she would say, proudly displaying a bowl filled with chopped strawberries and bananas.

“That looks delicious, sweetheart!” I would respond by embracing her tightly.

However, not everyone approved of the parenting decisions we made. Eleanor, my mother-in-law, who was temporarily residing with us, held rather different opinions. She believed that by giving Hope unlimited access to snacks, we would cause her to become obese.

Eleanor remarked, “Grace, this is absurd,” as she observed Hope eating a muesli bar one afternoon. “She’s going to spoil her dinner.”

“It’s okay, Mom. “She is aware of her needs,” Simon said softly. “She won’t overeat.”

Since dinner was at 6 p.m. and it was about 4 p.m. on the first night Eleanor arrived, she took away the muesli bar Hope was eating. Hope’s eyes widened and her face crumpled as she gazed at me.

“Please, Grandma! “Now I’m hungry,” she begged.

Simon said, “Give it back to her, Mom,” with firmness. Eleanor gave in, but it was obvious that she didn’t like it. I was mistaken to believe that was the end of it.

Due to our babysitter’s illness last night, we asked Eleanor to watch Hope from 6 to 10 p.m. It appeared to be simple enough because Hope goes to bed at 7:30 p.m. With the hope that everything would go well, Simon and I headed out for a rare dinner date.

The house was in disarray when we got home at around ten o’clock. Hope’s small kitchen was utterly destroyed, and she was awake and in tears. As I hurried to console her, my heart fell.

“Hope, sweetie, what happened?” I gave her a firm hug as I asked.

She sobbed, “Grandma threw away my kitchen,” “I was unable to eat the fish she forced me to. It was really disgusting.

While I stayed with Hope, Simon went to speak with Eleanor. He appeared enraged when he returned.

“Even though Hope gagged, Mom made her eat fish. When Hope attempted to prepare something else, she threw out her supper. Simon said, his voice trembling with rage, “And when Hope puked, she sent her to bed without anything.”

“What?” I let out a gasp. “Eleanor, how could you?”

With her arms folded, Eleanor stood in the doorway. “Grace, she needs discipline. She cannot simply eat whatever she wants at any time.

“That’s not your decision to make,” I said, attempting to maintain my composure. “We have discussed this. You went too far.

Simon came over to me, his face grim. “Your actions were inappropriate, Mom. You went too far. You won’t be allowed to remain here if you are unable to respect our parenting decisions.”

Eleanor appeared surprised, but I didn’t mind. Hope, still sniffling in my arms, was my top priority. “We’re her parents, and we know what’s best for her.”

Eleanor mumbled, “I’m only trying to help,” but she turned her head away, realizing that she had lost the fight.

For the remainder of the night, Simon and I cleaned up the mess and comforted Hope. She held on to me closely as I put her in bed. “Mommy, don’t let Grandma take my kitchen away again.”

Whispering, “I promise, sweetie,” I planted a kiss on her forehead. “I won’t let that happen.”

I woke up to a catastrophe the following morning. I expected to see Hope playing quietly when I entered the living room. Rather, I discovered her seated on the ground with tears running down her cheeks.

“My kitchen, Mommy! It’s gone. Her voice trembled with grief as she sobbed.

I felt my tummy knot tighten as I hurried outdoors. Hope’s mini fridge, her cherished tiny kitchen set, and all the small culinary tools scattered across the yard were there.

Everything had been saturated by the previous night’s rain. Water was dripping from the sides of the refrigerator as it lay on its side. The kitchen set’s wooden components were shattered and swelled.

“Simon!” My voice cracked as I yelled. “Come look at this!”

With a pale face, Simon rushed out to take in the scene. He whispered, more to himself than to me, “What the hell happened?”

Eleanor appeared quite unconcerned when she left the house at that moment, holding a cup of coffee. She said, “Good morning,” utterly disregarding the commotion in the yard.

“Mom, did you do this?” Simon’s voice was hardly controlled as he asked.

Eleanor sipped some coffee. “I did, indeed. It was beneficial to her. She doesn’t require that absurd kitchen.

Anger shot through me. “How could you, Eleanor? She cherished that kitchen. How much this means to her—do you know?”

Eleanor fired back, “She needs to learn to eat real food, not play around with snacks all day,” in a condescending tone. “I’m just trying to help.”

With his fists clenched, Simon took a step toward his mother. “This is not beneficial. You’ve gone too far. You destroyed something she treasures, and you didn’t even talk to us about it.”

Eleanor’s eyes rolled. “You two are going overboard. It is merely a collection of toys.

“It’s not just toys, Mom,” Simon voiced. It’s about honoring our parental decisions. Hope has been harmed by your disregard for us.

Hope, who had been silently observing the conversation, started crying once more. “Why did Grandma do this, Daddy? I cherished my kitchen.

I knelt next to Hope and gave her a firm embrace. “I understand, my love. I swear, we’ll fix this.

In an attempt to relax, Simon inhaled deeply. “You have to go, Mom. If you are unable to respect our borders, we cannot have you here.”

Eleanor’s cheeks flushed. “You’re dismissing me? following all that I have done for you?”

After saying, “This isn’t about us being ungrateful,” I got to my feet. It has to do with your lack of regard for our parenting decisions. Hope is in a lot of distress because of you. We want you to know that this conduct is unacceptable.

Eleanor laughed. You’re going to regret this. I’m her grandmother, and you’re treating me so disrespectfully.”

Simon gave a headshake. “We’re acting in our daughter’s best interests. Perhaps you should spend some time somewhere else if you are unable to see that.

Simon and I shared a tired look of camaraderie as Eleanor hurried off to gather her belongings. “We need to send a clear message,” he stated. “She can’t just get away with this.”

I gave a nod. “Let’s email her the invoice for all the things she damaged. Perhaps that will help her understand how serious we are.

After Eleanor left that evening, we got together and made a list of all the things she had broken. All of the utensils, the small refrigerator, and the tiny kitchen set added up to a significant amount.

After typing out a detailed list and including the receipt, we sent her an email with the stern warning, “Your actions have consequences.”

The days that followed were tense. Eleanor often called and accused us of being impolite and exaggerating. But every time, we refused to back down.

Hope approached me one afternoon while I was folding laundry. “Mommy, will Grandma ever come back?”

Unsure of how to convey to a five-year-old the intricacies of adult arguments, I sighed. “My dear, I’m not sure. However, we must ensure that you are respected by everyone who loves you.

Hope gave a contemplative nod. “Can we get a new kitchen?”

“Hope, we shall. With a comforting grin, I assured her, “We’ll find an even better one.”

Simon overheard our chat as he entered. “And this time, we’ll make sure no one can take it away from you,” he said, causing her hair to flutter.

Simon and I felt a fresh sense of resolve as we put Hope to bed that night. We had made the correct decision. Hope was learning from us that her feelings were important and that we would always defend her.

“Do you think your mom will ever understand?” I said as I laid in bed with Simon’s arm around me.

He let out a sigh. “I hope so, Grace. However, we are aware of what is best for our family even if she doesn’t. That’s what counts.

And I experienced a sense of calm at that same time. We worked as a team, and we would overcome any obstacles that came our way. For each other, for Hope, and for our unborn boy.