When my daughter-in-law asked me to watch my grandson for the weekend, I didn’t think twice about it. I imagined a simple couple of days. Playing, laughing, maybe a bit of chaos, and at the end just a normal thank you. That’s all. Not a babysitting bill…
The weekend itself was actually really nice. Oliver was in such a good mood, full of energy, running around the house, laughing at everything. We built towers, knocked them down, and built them again. I must have read his favorite book at least seven times. Probably more.
I cooked for him, cleaned up after him, changed diapers, all the usual things. At one point, he woke up in the middle of the night crying, and I stayed up with him until he calmed down. I was tired, but it didn’t bother me. That’s just part of it.
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By Sunday evening, Lila and Lucas got back. They looked relaxed, like they had a proper break. I helped them bring their things in, gave Oliver a big hug, and went home feeling… good. Just tired and happy.
Then the next morning happened.
I was in the kitchen making coffee when my phone buzzed. It was a message from Lila. Just a photo. Nothing else.
