Today marks ten years since Tom and I began living together. Our family is something people often remark upon, saying how lucky we are. But lately, Ive found myself worrying about things, mostly because arguments have crept in where there used to be none. Having children changed everything suddenly, it was all noise and routines, and I had to relearn how to live.
Last week, I noticed the childrens toys were disappearing. Not cheap plastic things, but the pricey ones Tom and I had saved up for, like the Lego sets and the plush Paddington Bear. I asked the kids first, then turned the house upside down, searching every corner, but there was no sign of them. Tom helped me look as well, but nothing turned up. It felt almost supernatural, which was unsettling.
Toms mum, Barbara, visits often. She adores her grandchildren, always keen to spend time with them. Usually, shell have a cup of tea with me before heading to their bedroom to play. But the last time, Barbara popped into the childrens room for just a moment and then left.
It was after that visit I realised another toy was gone this time, the wooden train wed bought with Toms bonus last Christmas. I questioned everyone in the house. They insisted theyd been playing with something else. Then my son, Harry, piped up that Gran had been holding the train in her hands and that shed slipped it into her bag before going home. Tom decided he should speak with his mum.
When relatives dropped by a few days later, the issue was pushed to the back of our minds. We only remembered when Barbara left early, and I spotted the head of a teddy bear poking out of her handbag.
I confronted her for an explanation. I just wanted to wash them! she claimed, but I could tell she wasnt being truthful. Eventually, Barbara admitted she was taking the toys to Toms cousins little boy. Apparently, his mum cant afford toys, so Barbara wanted to pamper him.
We talked it through and Barbara promised she wouldnt do it again. But the toys kept vanishing, and Tom ended up having a row with his mum about stealing and passing them on.
Its got so bad the children have noticed, and now they ask me not to let Gran visit because she steals their toys. Whenever Barbara asks to come over, we scramble for excusesa sudden errand or a busy scheduleto avoid the awkwardness.
Honestly, I feel sorry for her, but at the same time, its hard not to feel angry. She brought this upon herself.
