My MIL Destroyed Our Daughter’s Tiny Kitchen ‘For Her Own Good’ – Here’s How We Responded

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

Eleanor, Simon’s mother, and Grace had a falling out over Grace and Simon’s unconventional parenting style. The family’s unity was in jeopardy when an innocent plan to set up their daughter’s independence was foiled. To what extent would they go to justify their decisions?

In addition to having a five-year-old daughter named Hope, my spouse Simon and I are also six months pregnant with a son. Though hectic, our lives are joyful. As parents, Simon and I think Hope should have some autonomy, particularly with eating.

We want her to be aware of the requirements of her body and make wise decisions. We gave her a cute little semi-functional kitchen to help with this.

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

“Grace, it will work just well. Simply wait and observe. I’m sure Hope will adore it.”

Simon had improvised a little kitchen with a sink and a feeble pump. Hope stored her munchies there, ranging from chocolates to bananas.

She was free to take whatever she wanted and even “cook” small dishes like muesli or fruit salad. Of course, we didn’t do dangerous things, but she really enjoyed helping us cook. Because of this arrangement, she never went crazy for chips or candy because she could have them anytime she wanted.

Hope loved having a kitchen. “Look, Mom! She would proudly hold up a bowl of sliced strawberries and bananas and say, “I made a fruit salad!”

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

However, not everyone agreed with our parenting strategies. Eleanor, my mother-in-law, was visiting us and held quite different opinions. She believed that by letting Hope eat snacks whenever she pleased, we would cause Hope to become obese.

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

“It’s okay, mom. She is aware of her requirements,” Simon retorted tactfully. “She won’t overeat.”

Eleanor took away Hope’s muesli bar the first night she was here because dinner was supposed to be at six o’clock, but it was already close to four. Hope’s expression twisted as her wide eyes met mine.

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

“Mom, give it back to her,” Simon commanded. Though she gave in, Eleanor’s disdain was evident. I was mistaken when I believed that to be the end of it.

Since our nanny was unwell last night, we requested Eleanor to watch Hope from 6 to 10 p.m. Given that Hope goes to bed at 7:30 p.m., it seemed manageable. I went out on a rare dinner date with Simon, thinking that everything would go according to plan.

Around ten o’clock at night, we got back home to find the house in disarray. Hope’s tiny kitchen was in utter disarray, and she was weeping. I hurried to console her, feeling my heart sink.

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

“Grandma threw away my kitchen,” she wept. “I couldn’t eat the fish she made me eat. It was really disgusting.”

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

“Despite Hope’s gag reflex, Mom made her eat fish. Then, when Hope attempted to create something else, she threw out her food. And she sent Hope to bed empty-handed after she puked,” Simon said, his voice trembling with rage.

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

With her arms folded, Eleanor stood in the doorway. Grace, she needs to be disciplined. She isn’t allowed to consume anything, whenever she wants.”

Retorting in a firm voice, “That’s not your decision to make,” “We’ve discussed this. You went too far.”

Simon came up to join me, his face serious. “Mom, you acted in an inappropriate manner. You went too far. You won’t be allowed to stay here if you can’t respect our decisions as parents.”

Eleanor appeared surprised, but it didn’t bother me. Hope, who was 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 she had lost this fight.

The remainder of the evening was spent tidying up the mess and comforting Hope with Simon and me. She clung to me as I tucked her into bed. “Mommy, don’t let Grandma take my kitchen away again.”

I kissed her forehead and whispered, “I promise, sweetie.” “I won’t let that happen.”

I awoke the following morning to a catastrophe. I expected to see Hope calmly playing when I came into the living room. Rather, I discovered her seated on the ground, tears cascading down her cheeks.

“My kitchen, mom! It’s vanished.” Her voice quivered from grief as she sobbed.

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach and hurried outside. Hope’s cherished small kitchen set, her miniature refrigerator, and all the tiny cooking tools scattered about the yard were all there.

It had rained the previous night, so everything was saturated. The refrigerator was on its side, with water seeping out of the corners. The kitchen set’s wooden components were cracked and bloated.

“Simon!” My voice cracking, I yelled. “Come look at this!”

With a pale face, Simon emerged abruptly and surveyed the situation. More to himself than to me, he mumbled, “What the hell happened?”

At that moment, Eleanor appeared completely unfazed as she left the house with a cup of coffee in hand. She said, “Good morning,” totally oblivious to the mayhem going on in the yard.

“Mom, did you do this?” Simon questioned, scarcely able to control his voice.

Eleanor sipped from her cup of coffee. “I did, indeed. It was in her best interest. That awful kitchen is not necessary for her.”

I became quite angry. “Eleanor, how is it possible? That kitchen was her favorite. How much does this matter to her, do you know?”

With a contemptuous tone, Eleanor answered, “She needs to learn to eat real food, not play around with snacks all day.” “I’m just trying to help.”

With his fists clenched, Simon moved closer to his mother. This is not beneficial. You’ve gone too far. You destroyed something she treasures, and you did it without even talking to us about it.”

Eyes rolling, Eleanor said. “You two are going too far. Toys are all that it is.

“Mom, it’s not just toys,” Simon raised his voice to say. It’s important to honor the decisions we make as parents. You have wounded Hope in the process of disrespecting us.”

Hope, who had been observing the conversation in silence, started crying once more. “Why did Grandma do this, Daddy? My kitchen was my favorite space.”

I knelt next to Hope and gave her a strong hug. “I understand, my dear. I swear, we’ll make this right.”

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

Eleanor’s expression flushed. “Are you ejecting me? following all I’ve done for you?”

I got up and said, “This isn’t about us being ungrateful.” It’s because of the lack of regard you’ve shown for our parenting decisions. Hope is in such pain because of you. We must make it clear to you that this conduct is unacceptable.”

Eleanor sneered. “This will be a regret. You’re treating me, her grandmother, with such disdain.”

Simon gave a headshake. “We’re acting in our daughter’s best interests. It could be wise to temporarily relocate if you are unable to observe that.”

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

I gave a nod. “Let’s mail her the invoice for all the things she destroyed. Perhaps then she’ll understand how serious we are.”

We sat down that evening, after Eleanor had left, and made a list of everything she had broken. The little fridge, the kitchen set, and all the utensils came up to a considerable amount.

We emailed her an itemized list with the receipt attached and a strong warning that “Your actions have consequences.”

The days that followed were tense. Eleanor accused us of being impolite and exaggerating on multiple calls. But we didn’t back down any time.

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

I sighed, not sure how to convey to a five-year-old the intricacies of adult conflicts. “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. We’ll locate one that’s even better,” I assured her, grinning comfortingly.

Simon heard our chat as he strolled in. He ruffled her hair and said, “And this time, we’ll make sure no one can take it away from you.”

After tucking Hope into bed that evening, Simon and I were filled with a fresh determination. We had made the correct decision. Hope was learning from us that her emotions were important and that we would defend her at all times.

“Do you think your mom will ever understand?” I whispered to Simon as I laid in bed with his arm around me.

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

And I experienced serenity at that same time. As a team, we would overcome any obstacles that we encountered by working together. For each other, for Hope, and for our unborn boy.