Grandson Doesn’t Matter: When a Mother-in-Law Favors One Grandchild and Ignores the Other, a Father’s Loyalty is Tested

Mum thinks that Sophie cant cope, my husband finally muttered. She says she needs more help because she hasnt got a husband. But we, apparently, are fine and dandy

Fine? Vera spun round. Tom, Ive put on over two stone since having Charlie. My backs killing me, my knees ache. The GP said that if I dont sort my health out now, I wont even be able to pick Charlie up in a year. I need to go to the gym. Twice a week, for an hour and a half. Youre always at work, your schedules all over the place. Who am I supposed to ask to watch our son?

Your mum doesnt care about her grandson; shes got her precious granddaughter to dote on!

Tom didnt say a word.

And who, honestly, could Vera ask?

She leaned her forehead against the cold window, watching as Toms mums old little Vauxhall slowly reversed out of the drive.

The red tail lights flashed farewell and vanished as she turned the corner.

The kitchen clock struck exactly seven.

Mary Peterson had stayed all of 45 minutes.

In the lounge, Tom was trying to keep one-year-old Charlie amused.

Little Charlie was busy spinning the wheels on his plastic tipper truck, glancing occasionally at the door that his grandma had just walked through.

Has she gone, then? Tom peeked into the kitchen, rubbing his sore neck.

Shes disappeared, Vera replied without looking over. Said Charlies getting cranky because hes overtired and she didnt want to interrupt his routine.

Well, he did whinge when she picked him up, Tom tried to grin, but it came out crooked.

He cried because he doesnt know her, Tom. Its been three weeks. Three.

Vera turned away from the window with a huff and started stacking dirty mugs in the sink.

Dont, Vee, Tom came up behind, tried to wrap his arms round her waist. She sidestepped quickly, reaching for the washing-up sponge. Mums just well, shes used to Lily.

Lilys easier at her age, you know, four and all.

Shes not easier, Tom. Shes your mums favourite; thats what she is.

Lilys Sophies girl. And Sophie well, shes always been the golden child.

And us? Were just an afterthought. No ones favourite.

Last Friday was like déjà vu.

Mary Peterson dropped in for a minute, brought Charlie a cheapo plastic rattle, and hardly sat down before looking at the door.

Tom barely managed to mention hed be out Saturday for work and itd really help if his mum could stay with Charlie for a couple hours so Vera could get to the chemist and the shops.

Oh Tom, I cant possibly, Mary threw up her hands. Lily and I are going to see a puppet show, then Sophies asked me to have her the whole weekend. Poor girl works so hard, needs some time for herself.

Toms sister Sophie was raising Lily alone, but honestly, alone was just for show.

While Sophie was finding herself and auditioning new boyfriends, Lily would spend her weeks at Grandmas. Mary picked her up from nursery, took her to ballet lessons, bought her pricey jackets, and knew the name of every single doll in her bedroom.

Have you seen your mums status? Vera nodded at Toms phone on the table. Go on, look.

Tom picked it up and scrolled reluctantly.

Pics flashed by: Lily with an ice cream, Grandma pushing her on the swings, them crafting something with Play-Doh on a Saturday night.

Caption: My heart, my happiness.

She spends the whole weekend with them, Vera bit her lip, holding back tears. She popped in for ten minutes for us. And thats a stretch.

Tom, Charlies only a year old. Hes her grandson. Your son. Why does she treat him like this?

Tom stayed silent he had nothing to say.

He remembered last month, when his mum rang in the small hours because the tap had burst and the place was flooding, and hed dashed across half of London to fix it.

He remembered clearing her payday loan after she got one to buy Sophie a new mobile for her birthday.

He remembered every weekend in May, toiling away at the allotment, while Sophie and Lily lounged on deckchairs.

Lets ask her again, Tom ventured. Ill talk to her, properly, and explain how its about your health, not a whim.

Vera just shook her head. She knew nothing good would come of it.

***

The conversation happened Tuesday evening.

Tom put his phone on speaker so Vera could hear for herself.

Hi Mum. Listen, thing is… Vera needs to hit the gym for medical reasons. Her backs shot…

Oh, Tom, what does she need a gym for? Marys cheerful voice was accompanied by Lilys laughter in the background. She can do squats at home, cant she? Lay off the doughnuts, the back will sort itself out.

Mum, its not negotiable. Doctors orders regular workouts and massage.

Can you watch Charlie Tuesday and Thursday, six to eight in the evening? Ill pick you up, drop you off.

Silence.

Oh Tommy, you know my routine. I get Lily from nursery at five, then we have after-school clubs, and then we go for a walk in the park. Sophie works so late, she depends on me.

I cant let Lily down just so Vera can hop on the treadmill.

Mum, Charlie is your grandson too. He needs your attention. You barely see him once a month.

Dont start. Lilys a little girl; shes close to me, she loves me.

Charlies only a baby, doesnt know whats what. Well bond when hes older.

Now were off to draw, goodbye.

Tom slowly put the phone down.

Did you hear that? My son has to earn her affection? Only matters when he hits a certain age?

Tom, I knew shed say that, Veras voice cracked. From the moment we left hospital and she was two hours late because Lily needed new tights.

Its not about me. I dont care if she thinks Im fat or lazy.

Its that she couldnt give a toss about Charlie. One day hell ask me, Mum, why is Grandma Mary always with Lily and never me?

And what do I say? That his aunts the favourite, and his dads just a cash machine and handyman?

Tom paced the kitchen. Back and forth for ten minutes before he stopped, turned to Vera and said:

Right, do you remember the kitchen refit we planned for her?

Vera nodded. Theyd been squirreling away for six months, hoping to surprise Mary Peterson on her birthday. Tom had already picked out a new set, found a builder, wrangled a discount.

Decent sum that was enough for a years gym membership with a pool and personal trainer for Vera.

Were not doing it, Tom said firmly. Ill cancel it all tomorrow.

Are you actually serious? Veras eyes were wide with disbelief.

Dead serious. If my mum only has time and energy for one grandchild, she can start solving her own problems.

Ask Sophie. Let Sophies new man fix her leaky taps, haul potatoes from the farm, bail her out of payday loans.

Well pay a babysitter so you can get to the gym.

***

Next morning, Mary Peterson phoned up herself.

Tommy, love, just reminding you you were going to pop round this week and have a look at my extractor fan in the kitchen?

Its on its last legs, smoke everywhere. And Lily misses you terribly, keeps asking, Wheres Uncle Tom?

Sitting at his desk in the office, Tom closed his eyes.

Old Tom would already be on Google Maps, seeing how he could fit in a trip to B&Q.

But now

Sorry, Mum, Im not coming, he said, calm as anything.

Not coming? his mums voice instantly turned wounded. What about the fan? Ill suffocate!

Ask Sophie. Or her new man.

Im swamped now Veras health comes first, so all my free times tied up.

Ill be the one with Charlie.

Over this nonsense? his mum scoffed. Youre siding with your wife and abandoning your own mother?

No ones been abandoned. Just setting clear priorities, Mum. Like you do.

Youve picked Lily and Sophie. I pick Charlie and Vera.

Seems perfectly fair to me.

Are you being cheeky to me?! his mums voice quivered with rage. I did everything for you, Thomas! Everything! And this is how you repay me?

How do you mean everything, Mum? Tom sounded utterly relaxed. Cleaning up after Sophie on my money? Giving her a break while I slave on your allotment?

Oh, and weve decided that kitchen refit you were getting for your birthday? Not happening.

Were putting the cash to use at home. Were hiring a sitter since Charlies grannys too busy to look after her grandson.

About three seconds later, the phone went ballistic.

How DARE you! Im your mother! I gave my life for you! Youre under the thumb with Vera!

Lilys an orphan with a useless dad; she needs love! Your Charlies living the good life, everything on a plate!

What makes you think I should love him, eh?

My heart belongs to Lily, shes my whole world!

Ungrateful! Dont call me again! Dont you ever set foot in my house!

Tom quietly pressed hang up.

His hands trembled, but inside he felt oddly light, almost relieved. He knew this drama was only just beginning.

Now Mum would ring up Sophie, Sophie would start bombarding with angry WhatsApps, accusing them of selfishness and being heartless.

Thered be tears, guilt trips, all of it.

And he was right.

That night, when he got in, Vera met him at the door. She already knew Mary had left her a raging voice note, five minutes of pure venom, jezebel about the kindest word.

Are we really doing the right thing? Vera whispered as they tucked Charlie in and sat down to dinner. Shes your mum, after all.

A real mum loves all her kids and grandkids, Vee. Not just the ones she can use as props or piggy banks.

I let it slide for too long. Thought it was just her being her.

But when she said she didnt care about your health or Charlie, because Lily had ballet? That was it.

No more.

**

The row went on and on.

Mary and Sophie, now cut off from Tom and Veras generosity, rang their phones off the hook: insults, pleas, threats, attempted guilt-tripping.

The couple held their ground. Didnt pick up, didnt answer texts.

Two weeks later, Sophie herself turned up at the door.

She started yelling before Tom had even closed the porch, called him a spineless git and demanded he pay Marys bills and hand over money for shopping and medicines.

Tom simply shut the door in her face.

He was done with being the dutiful son.Months passed. At first, their phones buzzed daily with fresh accusations, solicitations, even crying voicemails from Lily herselfcoached to beg for her uncle and his magic toolbox. Vera, nerves frayed, blocked Marys number, followed by Sophies.

For the first time ever, the Peterson family group chat lay dormant.

At first, the house felt quieter. Quieter, but lighter, too. Vera made it to the gymtwo evenings a week, as promised. She grew stronger, then leaner. Her laugh started coming back, tinkling down the hallway as she trounced Tom at Mario Kart or showed Charlie how to make racing cars from egg cartons.

Tom learned again how to soothe crying at midnight, to carry a wriggling, blanketed Charlie to the window and show him city lights. Sometimes, after Vera came home, flushed and tired and happy, shed take over bath time. Tom would watch from the kitchen doorway, mop in one hand, smiling as Charlie crowed with glee under the bubbles.

Some nights were hard. When Charlie cut his molars and screamed for hours, when late bills pressed on Toms battered conscience, when Vera felt a stab of guilt picturing Lily at Grandmas, clinging to whatever love was left.

But the weeks rolled on, and so did they.

One rainy Saturday, Vera spotted an elderly neighbor, Mrs. Ashton, bent double with shopping bags. Vera went out, offered to help, ended up making tea at Mrs. Ashtons, Charlie asleep in her lap.

A friendship blossomed. Mrs. Ashton adored Charlies gummy smile and was glad for companyfor any reason. Soon, she and Vera arranged afternoons in the garden. One day, shyly, she offered: If you ever need to pop out, leave him with me. Id be delighted.

Vera blinked away tears and squeezed the old ladys hand.

They hired a teenager from down the road as backup. The girl arrived with her GCSE homework and a sunny smile. Tom paid her the kitchen-refit money, every penny worth it.

Life, once full of obligation and disappointment, became something else: a small world, resilient and whole, knitted together out of new routines, gentle laughter, and loyalty freely chosen.

December glimmered into view. One morning, Vera found an envelope on the mat. Marys handwriting. Inside: a Christmas card, stiffer than usual, stamped Return to sender. No message. Just Mrs. Mary Peterson & Lily and an address scribbled out twice.

Vera set it aside, heart calm as she made breakfast.

Christmas came cold and bright. Charlie, now toddling, tottered from kitchen to lounge in a red jumper, crammed his face with mandarin segments, and threw bows at the cat. Tom hung up Charlies stocking. Vera snapped a photo: her husband, their son, two wide smiles beaming under twinkling lightsno favorites, no left-behind.

Later, after Charlie drifted to sleep, Vera sank into Toms embrace.

Do you miss them? she asked softly, watching fairy-lights flicker across their wool blankets.

Sometimes, Tom admitted, his lips brushing her hair. But Id rather have real peace than old love that comes with strings.

Vera squeezed his hand. They sat, quiet and content, as snow blurred the windows and the house wrapped them in warmth not everyone foundbut which, at last, belonged to them.

And, on that silent Christmas night, in the hush that fell between heartbeats and regret, Vera knew precisely what to say when Charlie asked, years later, about family and love:

Its the people who choose you back, every single day.