ADVERTISEMENT
When George came home, I told him about the ongoing issues and asked him to speak with his mother. He acknowledged that she had overstepped boundaries but failed to address it with her. That weekend, the unresolved tensions came to a head.
After a night of little sleep, exhausted by the never-ending responsibilities of motherhood, I managed to muster enough energy to bake homemade pizzas with the children.
They were ecstatic about the activity, eager to consume their masterpieces for dinner. I put Dylan down for a nap just as dinnertime neared, expecting for a quiet end to the day.
To my dismay, when I returned to the kitchen, I found the pizzas gone. George and his mother were in the lounge, nonchalantly enjoying the last slices.
continued on the next page
ADVERTISEMENT
