“You’re not her mother, I’m her grandmother,” snapped Margaret when she saw Emma feeding little Sophie porridge.
Emma froze, the spoon halfway to Sophies mouth. The toddler blinked up at her grandmother, her chewing slowing.
“What do you mean?” Emma asked quietly, keeping her voice steady for Sophies sake.
“What I mean is, the child should have proper food, not this mush,” Margaret said, striding over to inspect the bowl. “She needs a proper breakfastsausages, toast, something substantial. Shes a growing girl.”
“Margaret, Sophies only three. The doctor said porridge is good for her at this age.”
“That young GP at the clinic?” Margaret scoffed. “What does he know? I raised three children, and theyre all healthy. Youve had one and suddenly you know better than me?”
Emma felt her cheeks flush. Sophie watched them both, sensing the tension in the air.
“Mummy, I dont want porridge,” Sophie suddenly announced, pushing the bowl away.
“See?” Margaret said triumphantly. “She knows what she wants. Let me make her a proper breakfast.”
Without waiting for a reply, Margaret opened the fridge and began pulling out ingredients. Emma sat there, spoon in hand, unsure what to do. Arguing in front of Sophie was pointless, but she was tired of always giving in.
“Margaret, maybe just finish the porridge? I made it with apple”
“Apple in porridge?” Margaret cut in, grabbing a frying pan. “Fruit should be separate. Youre young, but honestly, some of these ideas…”
Sophie slipped off her chair and ran to her grandmother.
“Gran, what are you making?”
“Pancakes, darling. With syrup. Remember how we made them last time?”
“Yes!” Sophie beamed. “Mummy, can I help Gran?”
Emma nodded, putting the half-eaten porridge in the fridge. Every visit from Margaret felt like a battle. It was as if her mother-in-law refused to accept that her son had a wife who could care for her own child.
“Wheres my James?” Margaret asked, whisking batter. “Did he leave for work without saying goodbye?”
“He had an early meeting. You know how busy he is.”
“Busy, busy. Working himself to the bone. And for what? To provide for his family. Some people dont appreciate that.”
Emma stayed silent. There was no winning with Margaret. Every conversation became a chance for criticism.
“Gran, can I flip the pancake?” Sophie asked, standing on a stool by the hob.
“Of course, sweetheart. Just be carefulits hot.”
Emma wanted to interveneSophie was too young to be near the stovebut Margaret spoke first.
“Dont fuss. She needs to learn. Or shell grow up hopeless in the kitchen like some people.”
The jab stung. Emma was a decent cook, but Margaret always found faulttoo much salt, overcooked meat, poorly chopped veg.
“Mummy, look how golden my pancake is!” Sophie said proudly.
“Well done, darling,” Emma smiled.
“Well have it with syrup and berries,” Margaret added. “A proper breakfast, not that slop.”
Sophie devoured the pancakes, syrup smeared on her cheeks. Emma watched, torn. On one hand, Sophie was eating happily. On the other, it felt like another victory for Margaretproof that Emma couldnt get it right.
“Margaret, maybe not so much sugar in the morning?” Emma ventured.
“Whats the harm? She needs energy. Or do you want her pale and weak?”
“No, but Ive read that too much sugar”
“Oh, not more internet nonsense,” Margaret waved her off. “I raised children the proper way, not by books. And they turned out just fine.”
Emma sighed. The same old story. Every decision questioned, every effort dismissed.
After breakfast, Sophie ran off to play. Margaret washed up, though Emma offered.
“Sit down, rest,” Margaret said. “Im used to houseworkunlike some.”
“Margaret, why do you always act like I dont know how to care for Sophie?”
Margaret turned from the sink. “Did I say that? Im just helping. Youre youngyoull learn in time.”
“But Im her mother. Shouldnt I decide whats best?”
“Of course. But Im her grandmother. And Ive more experience.”
Margaret dried her hands and sat opposite Emma.
“Listen, love, I dont want to argue. I just worry. Youre inexperienced. Mistakes in parenting linger.”
“What mistakes?” Emma asked wearily.
“All this porridge, for one. Or bundling her up too much. Yesterday was lovely, and you had her in a coat!”
“It was chilly.”
“Nonsense. Children need fresh air, not coddling.”
Emma exhaled. Nothing she did was right. Too warm? Wrong. Too light? Wrong.
A cry came from Sophies room. They rushed in to find her clutching a broken toy.
“What happened, sweetheart?” Emma asked, kneeling beside her.
“Dollys arm fell off,” Sophie sniffled.
“Dont worry, well fix her,” Emma soothed.
“Or maybe its time for a new one?” Margaret cut in. “This ones seen better days. Ill pop to the shops tomorrow.”
“Margaret, she doesnt need more toys.”
“Doesnt need? Look aroundshes hardly spoiled.”
“Its not about quantity”
“Then what? Children need stimulation. Or is saving pennies more important?”
“Im not penny-pinching! I just dont want her spoiled.”
“Ah. So thats why she prefers me.”
The words hit like a slap. Emma glanced at Sophie, who was now listening wide-eyed.
“Gran, will you really buy me a new dolly?”
“Of course, poppet. The prettiest one.”
Sophie clapped gleefully. Emmas chest tightened. Once again, she was the strict mum, while Gran was the fun one who gave treats.
“Mummy, why are you sad?” Sophie asked suddenly.
“Just tired, sweetheart.”
Sophie kissed her cheek. “Now youll feel better.”
Margaret watched, her expression unreadable.
“Right, Im off,” she said abruptly.
“No, Gran! Stay and play!”
“Next time, darling.”
At the door, Emma tried once more.
“Margaret, can we talk properly? I dont mind help, but I need respect too.”
Margaret paused, hand on the knob.
“Emma, Im not interfering. Im helping. Theres a difference.”
After she left, the flat felt hollow. That evening, James returned from work.
“Everything alright? Mum visit?”
“Yes. Same as alwaysIm the clueless mum, shes the expert.”
“Dont be dramatic. Shes just set in her ways.”
“James, every choice I make for Sophie gets criticized.”
“She means well. Shes got experience.”
“Im her mother!”
“Of course. But Mum might have a point sometimes.”
Emma stared at him. He didnt understand.
Sophie ran in, clutching a tower of blocks. “Look what Gran taught me to build!”
Emmas heart sank. Even playtime was Margarets domain now.
Later, Emma texted James: *We need to talk about your mum. Every visit undermines me. Sophies starting to notice. Fix this.*
He replied: *She just loves Sophie. Well talk when Im back.*
Emma checked on Sophie, who slept hugging her new doll.
*Am I too strict?* she wondered. *Or do I just need to find balancefirm but loving?*
She tucked Sophie in, resolving to be betternot for Margaret, but for her daughter. And for herself.
**Life lesson:** Parenting is a journey with no perfect path. Love and guidance matter more than always being rightor proving someone wrong.
