At first, it was little things. A last-minute cold. A surprise “plumbing issue.” Once, she even claimed her back “locked up” while making toast. Always some new reason why she couldn’t take the kids for the weekend like we’d planned.
My daughter, Pia, is 7—blonde, chatty, always drawing stuff and leaving glitter in every crevice. My son Kellan just turned 4, and he’s basically a tornado with dimples. They used to spend weekends at my mother-in-law’s place once or twice a month. They loved it. She’d bake with them, spoil them with pancakes, send them back sticky and sleepy. But then, a few months ago, things just… shifted.
