The Tale of a Mother-in-Law. – You wouldn’t believe who I’ve just met.
Katie dashed into the house, washed her hands in haste, and hurried straight to the kitchen. Her parents were already seated at the table.
With a breathless apology for being late to lunch, she launched into her astonishing news. “You’ll never guess who I’ve just met. My brother’s found himself a girl—pretty, cheerful, with ginger hair like a ray of sunshine. Her name’s Laura. Works at the car wash where we take the car. That’s where they met. Seems quite serious between them. Isn’t it wonderful?” Katie chattered away like a songbird.
Her father, Simon Thompson, glanced up from his plate with a satisfied smile and remarked how glad he was, as he’d begun to doubt his son’s inclinations. Katie’s mother, Helen Wilson, bristled at her husband’s comment and frowned at the thought of her son finding a girl at a car wash.
“Who even works there? Only those unfit for proper work—no education, no manners, no upbringing. And they’re all rather plain, if you ask me. ‘Car wash girls,’ that’s all they are. Not one of them worth a second glance from our son,” Helen huffed, unable to let it go.
Simon disagreed, rising to the defence. “Now, that’s unfair. People are different. Perhaps she’s just earning a bit on the side while studying. There’s no shame in honest work—it means she understands the value of money. And she won’t be begging our lad for his wages if she has her own. You’ve not even met her yet. She might be lovely. I doubt our boy would settle for just anyone.”
But Helen remained combative. “Well, I’ll go and see this beauty for myself—see what spell she’s cast on our son. I’ll have her sacked—no business setting her sights on a decent lad like ours. Let her find some common fellow instead.”
True to her word, Helen marched to the car wash the next day. She stormed in, kicking up a fuss, demanding they fetch this Laura who was dangling after her son. She insisted the girl be fired for fraternising with customers. But Marina, who met her at the door, said she didn’t know the girl—perhaps she worked another shift—and suggested returning tomorrow.
Helen, of course, had hoped to shame the “shameless” Laura and send her packing in disgrace. But faced with no other choice, she trudged home empty-handed—as the saying goes, ‘with a flea in her ear.’ Still, she vowed to return.
Marina later approached Laura with a warning—getting involved with customers was risky; she could lose her job over it. But Laura explained that she and Chris had been together a year. She hadn’t wanted to get close at first, but he’d been persistent. Now he wanted to introduce her to his parents, but she kept putting it off—she wanted to finish university, find a proper job, then meet them properly.
For now, though, she needed the work—studying and living in halls, she disliked taking money from her folks. Marina promised not to report the incident but urged Laura to ask Chris to speak to his mother before she caused another scene.
That evening, Chris confronted his mother the moment he stepped in. “What are you playing at? Trying to drive a wedge between me and Laura? She’s only at the car wash temporarily. There’s dignity in all work, you know. You don’t even know her—she’s kind, she’s clever. I love her. If you set foot there again, I’ll move out, take Laura with me, and you won’t see either of us again. Stay out of my affairs. I mean to marry her, and that’s final.”
Helen said nothing. She knew her son—he didn’t make idle threats. If he said it, he’d do it. Losing him wasn’t worth the fight, so she never returned to the car wash.
Two years later, Chris and Laura married. The groom’s family adored the wedding. Helen proudly admitted the bride had helped organise it—turns out, Laura was lovely and sharp as a tack. She’d graduated with first-class honours, landed a firm job, and now earned as much as Chris. And they were expecting—Laura was three months along. Chris had barely persuaded her to marry; she’d wanted to live together first.
Helen was glad she’d heeded her son that day—had she meddled, who knows what might have been?
Simon drew Helen onto the dance floor, whispering in her ear how fortunate he was in his wife—just as his son was. They joined the newlyweds’ waltz, swaying together in the glow of the celebration.
So tell me—should a mother ever choose her son’s bride?
