**The Tale of a Mother-in-Law** – “You won’t believe who I’ve just met!”
Katie burst through the front door, scrubbed her hands in record time, and dashed straight to the kitchen. Her parents were already seated at the table.
She apologised for missing lunch and immediately launched into her bombshell news. “You’ll never guess who I’ve just met. My brother’s got a girlfriend! She’s absolutely lovely—cheerful, ginger-haired, like a little ray of sunshine. Her name’s Poppy. Works at the car wash where we take the car. That’s how they met. Seems pretty serious between them. Isn’t that brilliant?” Katie chattered away without pausing for breath.
Thomas Whitmore, Katie’s dad, glanced up from his plate with a satisfied grin. “About time,” he said. “I was starting to wonder if he’d ever bring someone home.”
Katie’s mum, Margaret Whitmore, bristled at her husband’s remark and frowned upon hearing where her son’s new love interest worked. “Honestly, what sort of girl works at a car wash? Probably couldn’t get hired anywhere else. No education, no manners, no class. And let’s be honest, not exactly glamorous, is it? Just another car wash girl. None of them are good enough for our boy,” Margaret huffed, unable to let it go.
Thomas disagreed, jumping to the defence. “Now, now, that’s not fair. People take all sorts of jobs. Maybe she’s just earning a bit extra while studying part-time. It’s not a bad thing—shows she understands the value of money. Means she won’t be pestering our son for handouts. You haven’t even met her yet. For all you know, she could be lovely. I doubt our lad would settle for just anyone.”
But Margaret was in full battle mode. “Well, I’ll just pop down there and see this ‘lovely’ girl for myself. Find out what she’s playing at, latching onto our son. I’ll get her sacked—no business eyeing up well-off lads. She can find herself a less ambitious match.”
True to her word, the next day Margaret marched into the car wash. She kicked off a row the moment she stepped inside, demanding to speak to this “Poppy” who’d apparently bewitched her son. She insisted the girl be fired for fraternising with customers. But a young woman named Gemma, who greeted her at the door, explained apologetically that Poppy wasn’t on shift—perhaps she could try tomorrow?
Margaret, of course, had hoped to publicly shame the “shameless” Poppy and chase her out on the spot. But with no luck, she trudged back home, empty-handed, as they say. She did, however, vow to return the next day.
Meanwhile, Gemma pulled Poppy aside and warned her that dating clients really could get her sacked—it was in the contract, after all. But Poppy explained she and James had been together a year. She’d been wary at first, but he’d been persistent, wouldn’t take no for an answer. Now he wanted her to meet his parents, but Poppy kept postponing it—she wanted to finish uni, find a proper job, *then* face the in-laws.
Right now, she needed this job. She was still studying, living in student digs, and refused to ask her own parents for money. Gemma promised not to report the incident but insisted Poppy ask James to have a word with his mother before she caused another scene.
That evening, James confronted his mum the second he walked in. “What on earth are you playing at? Trying to ruin things between me and Poppy? She’s only temping at the car wash. There’s honour in all work, you know. You don’t even know her—she’s kind, she’s clever, and I love her. If you ever turn up there again, I’m moving out, taking Poppy with me, and you won’t see either of us. Stay out of my relationships. I’m marrying this girl, and that’s final.”
Margaret stayed silent. She knew her son well—he didn’t make idle threats. If he said it, he’d do it. The thought of losing him was unbearable, so she resolved never to set foot in that car wash again.
Two years later, James and Poppy tied the knot. The groom’s family adored the wedding. Margaret even bragged that her daughter-in-law Poppy had helped organise it all. Turned out she was stunning, razor-sharp—graduated with first-class honours, landed a corporate job, and now earned as much as James. Oh, and they were expecting. Poppy was already three months along. James had barely convinced her to marry him—she’d wanted to live together first. Thank goodness Margaret had listened to her son and kept her nose out.
Thomas sidled up to Margaret and swept her onto the dance floor. “We’re lucky, love,” he whispered. “Just like our boy.”
They joined the newlyweds’ waltz, spinning gracefully under the lights.
So—what do *you* think? Should a mother pick her son’s bride?
