During the wedding rehearsal, the groom approaches the pastor with an unusual offer.

“Look, I’ll give you $100 if you’ll change the wedding vows.” 

“When you get to the part where I’m supposed to promise to ‘love, honor, and obey’ and ‘be faithful to her forever,’ I’d appreciate it if you’d just leave that out.”

He passes the minister a $100 bill and walks away satisfied. 

On the day of the wedding, when it comes time for the groom’s vows, the pastor looks the young man in the eye and says,… 

“Will you promise to prostrate yourself before her, obey her every command and wish, serve her breakfast in bed every morning of your life, and swear eternally before God and your lovely wife that you will not ever even look at another woman, as long as you both shall live?”

The groom swallows hard, looks around, and says in a tiny voice, “Yes.” 

He then leans toward the pastor and hisses, “I thought we had a deal?!”

The pastor puts a $100 bill into the groom’s hand and whispers, 

“She made me a better offer.”

 

When my son, Ethan, set up this account for me and insisted I share my recent dilemma, I was skeptical. According to him, my understanding of what's normal and acceptable has always been a bit off-kilter.

He was convinced that once my story hit the internet, a wave of virtual finger-wagging would set me straight. So here I am, recounting the tale that led to my current status as the family pariah, all because I took my grandkids to Disney World.

[

A grandmother greeting her grandson | Source: Getty Images

Ethan and his wife, Sarah, had been planning to attend a friend's wedding in Mexico, a chance for them to unwind without the kids. They approached me to babysit their children, Lily, 5, and Jack, 4, for what would be a stretch of four nights and five days. Initially, I balked at the idea.

Not only did it seem like a marathon of caregiving, but Sarah had previously made it clear that her family took precedence over ours. The notion didn't sit well with me, and I found it particularly irksome that they would ask me, despite her mother being the apparent go-to for such favors.

Two siblings playing together | Source: Getty Images

However, Ethan's emotional plea swayed me. He argued that it was a rare opportunity for them, a plea that tugged at my heartstrings, even as a voice in the back of my mind accused them of manipulation.

During their absence, an invitation to a birthday party at Disney World came my way. It seemed like a splendid opportunity to do something special with the grandkids, and it honestly didn't cross my mind to consult Ethan and Sarah.

A grandmother with her grandson | Source: Getty Images

In my defense, Sarah often talked about taking the kids to Disney "someday," but it always seemed like one of those far-off dreams, not an imminent plan. It was the Magic Kingdom. I had to take the kids. Despite Sarah's plan to take them, I knew I had to show them around the place.

Upon their return, I was blindsided by Sarah's reaction. The news that I had taken Lily and Jack to Disney was met with tears and accusations. She was devastated, claiming I had robbed her of a milestone — witnessing their first Disney experience. Her words stung, branding me as entitled, which only poured salt on the wound given her past demands for childcare.

A girl and her grandmother at Disney World | Source: Getty Images

Ethan, ever the mediator, asked me to apologize, to mend fences over what he deemed a significant oversight on my part. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. The bitterness of being labeled as entitled, coupled with their disregard for my initial reluctance, hardened my resolve. I saw no reason to apologize for enjoying a day out with my grandchildren, especially when the decision to babysit had been a concession on my part.

The fallout was immediate. Ethan insisted that an apology was necessary, not just for the sake of peace, but because Sarah felt robbed of a precious moment. To them, my actions were thoughtless, a blunder that eclipsed the joy of the birthday celebration. But to me, it highlighted a deeper issue, a lack of appreciation and respect for my boundaries.

An angry woman | Source: Getty Images

Our standoff has since grown into a chasm, with Ethan hoping that sharing this story would enlighten me to my supposed misstep. Yet, as I lay all this out, I find myself grappling with the complexity of family dynamics, the expectations we place on each other, and the weight of decisions made with the best intentions.

I can't help but wonder if the issue at hand is not just about a trip to Disney, but something more. Perhaps it's about understanding, communication, and the unforeseen impact of our actions on those we love. Or maybe it's about the boundaries we draw and the spaces we navigate as family, where the lines between right and wrong blur in the face of love and responsibility.

An older woman fighting with her son | Source: Getty Images

As I share this tale, I realize that my son's prediction might come true. The court of public opinion may indeed find me at fault. But more than seeking vindication or absolution, I find myself reflecting on the intricacies of human relationships, the mistakes we make, and the lessons we learn along the way.

A woman asking advice online | Source: Getty Images

In the end, maybe Ethan is right. Perhaps the internet will deem me the antagonist of this story. But as I ponder the events that unfolded, I can't help but hope for a resolution that bridges the gap between us, one that acknowledges the complexity of our feelings and fosters a deeper understanding among us. I seriously hope my son, his wife, and I can overcome this. But in the meantime I really want to know: Do you think I was wrong?

 

A 96-year-old woman's note to her bank! Priceless! 📷📷

The following is an actual letter that was sent to a bank by a 96 year-old woman. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York Times.

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To whom it may concern,

I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his depositing the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly transfer of funds from my modest savings account, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only thirty-one years.

You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has recently become.

From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person.

My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.

Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope.

Please find attached an Application Contact Status form which I require your chosen employee to complete.

I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative.

Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof. In due course,

I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Please allow me to level the playing field even further. When you call me, you will now have a menu of options on my new voice mail system to choose from.

Please press the buttons as follows:

Press 1: To make an appointment to see me.

Press 2: To query a missing payment.

Press 3: To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.

Press 4: To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.

Press 5: To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.

Press 6: To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.

Press 7: To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated to you at a later date to the Authorized Contact.

Press 8: To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.

To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee of $50 to cover the setting up of this new arrangement. Please credit my account after each occasion.

Your Humble Client...

(Remember: This was written by a 96 year old woman!)