A pregnant mother of three needs to sell her stroller to feed her three children after she was abandoned by her husband.Anne Sargent sat on her kitchen floor and cried. It was past midnight, and it was the only time she could allow herself to show her pain — when her three children were asleep upstairs.Anne felt the baby move and placed a tender hand on her belly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to her unborn child. “I’m doing my best, but it’s just not good enough…” Just two months ago, Anne had been a radially happy wife and mother, confidently expecting the birth of her fourth child, and confident in her place in the world and her husband’s love. That woman was gone.Anne was expecting her fourth child when her husband walked out.| Source: Unsplash Derek had come home one night and told her he was leaving, just like that. “But why?” asked Anne. “I don’t understand, I thought we were happy!”“YOU were happy!” Derek cried. “YOU,not me! All you did was have babies and fuss over them, now there’s one more on the way!” “But you WANTED children!” Anne protested. “You were happy every time I was pregnant…”A family is built on understanding and mutual respect. Happy?” screamed Derek. “Happy that you gave all your love and attention to the kids? All I was to you was a paycheck! Well, that’s OVER!” So three months after Anne announced her fourth pregnancy, Derek was gone. Anne immediately went out and found herself a part-time job at a local grocery store.All you did was have babies and fuss over them!” | Source: Unsplash The owner would have been willing to give her a full-time job, but for that, Anne would have needed to pay a sitter for her three boys and that would have consumed most of her salary,so she carefully stretched her salary. But even with the child support check Derek sent, it just wasn’t enough. Anne started selling some antique china she’d inherited from her grandmother and that paid for the utilities for a few months. Then she sold a silver brush-and-mirror set she’d had since she was a little girl, and that paid for groceries. Little by little, as her belly grew, Anne sold her treasures to keep her family safe and fed. Then one day, there was nothing left to sell except bric-a-brac. Anything of greater value was gone. Anne looked at the old stroller she’d brought up from the cellar. It had been hers when she was a baby and had been used by each of her children in turn. It was very old, probably from the sixties,but it was in mint condition.Anne was devastated by Derek’s attitude. | Source: Unsplash She ran her hand over the roses painted on the side and bit back her tears. She needed it for the new baby, but she needed the money even more.She thought about getting a good price for it down at the flea market. Vintage items were always popular… And so she took the stroller to the flea market, and one of the dealers gave her $50 for it. Not much at all, but every cent helped.Anne walked away, sure she’d never see the stroller again, but she was wrong. Two days later, she opened the front door and saw the stroller on the porch! There was an envelope inside and Anne opened it and read: “Please call me.” The message was followed by a phone number. Anne called the number ad a woman answered her. “Hello?” Anne said. “Are you the person who left the stroller? How did you know who it belonged to and where I live?”Anne got a part-time job as a teller. s Derek told me,” the woman on the other side said. “I’m Grace Robbs. I think we should meet.” An hour later, Grace was sitting on Anne’s sofa sipping tea. She was a pretty woman, six or seven years younger than Anne, and she looked very unhappy. Her pale skin was blotched and her eyes were swollen as if she’d been crying. “How do you know Derek,” Anne asked, even though in her heart she already knew the answer. “I was his girlfriend,” Grace said. “Was?” asked Anne. “You broke up?”What Anne earned just wasn’t enough. | Source: Unsplash “Today, as a matter of fact,” Grace said and started crying. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know about you or the children, or the baby… I found out I was pregnant, and I didn’t know how to tell him…” t“So I went to the flea market with a friend and saw this darling stroller and I bought it. I put it in the middle of the lounge and tied balloons to it with a message: ‘Hello Dad!’” “But he wasn’t happy like I thought he’d be. He started screaming and asking where II got the stroller and if his stupid wife had given it to me. He asked if it was a joke.” He told me to take it right back, that he didn’t want to know about your baby. So I told him: ‘It’s for OUR baby.’ and that’s when he went crazy.” “He accused me of wanting to trap him and said he already had three brats with you and one more on the way, and he didn’t want my baby. He told me to get out and come to you.”Anne sold her beautiful vintage stroller in the flea market. | Source: Unsplash He said: ‘Might as well have all the breeding cows under the same roof.’ I’m so sorry, I didn’t know about you, I guess I didn’t know him at all!” Anne got up and put her arm around the crying girl. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.” “He’s kicked me out,” Grace said quietly. “I have no family here and nowhere to go. I have a job, but with the rents in this city, I can’t afford to live alone, and who is going to want a pregnant roommate?” “I will!” Anne said firmly. “I need a tenant because what I earn isn’t enough, and I can’t work full-time because I can’t afford a babysitter for after school.” “But…” Grace’s face lit up. “I work online! I can take care of the kids after school. I love kids!”Anne and Grace comforted each other. | Source: Unsplash Advertisement “So I can take a full-time job?” asked Anne, delighted. “The owner of the grocery store wants me to manage it for him. With your help, I can! And you don’t have to worry about stuff for the baby. After three kids I have enough for an army.” Grace smiled through her tears. “And we have the stroller too…” she pointed out. “Are you sure? It’s Derek’s baby…” “No,” Anne shook her head. “It’s YOUR baby, and my children’s sibling, that is all that matters.” The two women settled into a new life together, and when Anne’s baby was born, Grace was there. When it was Grace’s turn four months later, Anne held her hand. They became a real family and raised their five children together.Anne and Grace raised their children together. | Source: Unsplash Advertisement As for Derek, he had several failed relationships and eventually came knocking on Anne’s door. He was shocked when he saw Grace there and asked to speak to Anne. “What do you want, Derek?” Anne asked. “I miss you, babe…” Derek said. Anne stared at him for a long moment then said, “Sorry, so not interested!” And she closed the door in his face.
Neighbor Asked My Son to Shovel Snow for $10 a Day but Refused to Pay — So I Taught Him a Lesson He’ll Never Forget
When my 12-year-old son Ben took up our wealthy neighbor’s offer to shovel snow for $10 a day, he couldn’t wait to buy gifts for the family. But when that man refused to pay, calling it a “lesson about contracts,” Ben was heartbroken. That’s when I decided to teach him a lesson he’d never forget.
I’d always known my son Ben had a bigger heart than the world seemed to deserve. He was only 12 but carried a determination that could humble men twice his age.
A boy carrying many books | Source: Midjourney
Even so, I never imagined I’d be standing in the icy driveway next to my husband, exacting revenge against the man who thought cheating a child was just another business move.
It all began on a snowy morning early in December. Ben was buzzing with excitement after shoveling the driveway while I made breakfast. He burst into the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the cold.
“Mom, Mr. Dickinson said he’ll pay me $10 every time I shovel his driveway!” His grin stretched ear to ear.
A smiling boy | Source: Midjourney
Mr. Dickinson, our neighbor, was as insufferable as he was wealthy. He always bragged about his business ventures and showed off his luxury toys.
It wasn’t hard to guess he thought he was doing us all a favor by letting Ben “earn” his money. Still, Ben’s excitement was contagious, and I wasn’t about to crush his enthusiasm.
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” I said, ruffling his hair. “What’s the plan for all this cash?”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m buying you a scarf,” he said with the seriousness only a 12-year-old could muster. “And a dollhouse for Annie.”
His eyes sparkled as he described every detail of the red scarf with tiny snowflakes, and the dollhouse with working lights that Annie had been obsessed with since she saw it in the toy store’s window display.
My heart swelled. “You’ve got it all planned out, huh?”
A happy woman | Source: Midjourney
He nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “And I’m saving what’s left for a telescope.”
Over the next few weeks, Ben became a blur of determination. Every morning before school, he bundled up in his oversized coat and boots, a knit hat pulled low over his ears. From the kitchen window, I watched him disappear into the frosty air, shovel in hand.
The muffled scrape of metal on the pavement echoed through the stillness.
A boy shoveling snow | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes he’d stop to catch his breath, leaning on the shovel, his breath forming little clouds in the freezing air. When he came inside, his cheeks were red, his fingers stiff, but his smile always shone through.
“How was it today?” I’d ask, handing him a cup of hot chocolate.
“Good! I’m getting faster,” he’d reply, his grin lighting up the room. He’d shake snow off his coat like a dog shedding water, sending damp clumps onto the rug.
A rug in an entrance hall | Source: Pexels
Each evening, Ben would sit at the kitchen table, tallying his earnings. The notepad he used was dog-eared and smudged with ink, but he treated it like a sacred ledger.
“Only 20 more dollars, Mom,” he said one night. “Then I can get the dollhouse and the telescope!”
His excitement made the hard work seem worth it, at least to him.
By December 23rd, Ben was a well-oiled machine of winter labor.
A person shoveling snow | Source: Pexels
That morning, he left the house humming a Christmas carol. I went about my day, expecting him to return as usual, tired but triumphant.
But when the door slammed open an hour later, I knew something was wrong.
“Ben?” I called out, rushing from the kitchen.
He stood by the door, his boots half-on, his gloves still clenched in his trembling hands. His shoulders heaved, and tears clung to the corners of his wide, panicked eyes.
A sad boy | Source: Midjourney
I kneeled beside him, gripping his arms. “Sweetheart, what happened?”
He wouldn’t talk at first, but eventually, he told me everything.
“Mr. Dickinson… he said he’s not paying me a single cent.”
The words hung in the air, heavy as a stone.
“What do you mean, he’s not paying you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Ben sniffled, his face crumpling.
A boy sobbing | Source: Midjourney
“He said it’s a lesson. That I should never accept a job without a contract.” His voice cracked, and the tears spilled over. “Mom, I worked so hard. I just don’t understand. Why would he do this?”
Anger surged through me, sharp and blinding. What kind of person cheats a child as a “business lesson”? I pulled Ben into a hug, pressing my hand against his damp hat.
“Oh, baby,” I murmured. “It’s not your fault. You did everything right. This is on him, not you.” I pulled back, brushing his hair from his face. “You don’t worry about this, okay? I’ll take care of it.”
A determined woman | Source: Midjourney
I stood, grabbed my coat, and stormed across the lawn. The sight of Dickinson’s house, glowing with holiday cheer, only stoked my fury. Laughter and music spilled into the cold night as I rang the doorbell.
He appeared moments later, wine glass in hand, his tailored suit making him look like a villain straight out of a bad movie.
“Mrs. Carter,” he said, his voice oozing false charm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
A man raising one eyebrow | Source: Midjourney
“I think you know why I’m here,” I said evenly. “Ben earned that money. You owe him $80. Pay him.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “No contract, no payment. That’s how the real world works.”
I clenched my fists, willing myself to stay calm. I opened my mouth to argue about fairness and the cruelty of his supposed lesson, but the look in his eyes told me none of that would persuade him to do the right thing.
A man staring ahead | Source: Midjourney
No… there was only one way to deal with the Mr. Dickinsons of the world.
“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Dickinson. The real world is about holding people accountable.” My smile was so sweet it could’ve rotted teeth. “Enjoy your evening.”
As I walked away, an idea began to form. By the time I stepped back into our house, I knew exactly what had to be done.
A furious woman | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, while Dickinson and his guests still slept, I woke the household with a determined clap of my hands.
“Time to go, team,” I said.
Ben groaned as he crawled out of bed, but caught the determined gleam in my eye. “What are we doing, Mom?”
“We’re righting a wrong.”
A determined woman | Source: Midjourney
Outside, the air was bitter and still. My husband started the snowblower, the rumble cutting through the early quiet. Ben grabbed his shovel, gripping it like a sword. Even Annie, too small for the heavy work, bounced along in her boots, ready to “help.”
We began with our driveway, then moved to the sidewalk, clearing paths for the neighbors. The pile of snow grew steadily as we pushed it all toward Dickinson’s pristine driveway.
The cold bit at my fingers, but the satisfaction of each shovelful fueled me.
A person shoveling snow | Source: Pexels
Ben paused to catch his breath, leaning on his shovel. “This is a lot of snow, Mom,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face.
“That’s the point, honey,” I said, piling another scoop onto the growing mountain. “Think of it as a reverse Christmas miracle.”
Annie giggled as she pushed tiny mounds of snow with her toy shovel. “Mr. Grumpy’s not going to like this,” she chirped.
By mid-morning, Dickinson’s driveway was buried under a fortress of snow.
A huge pile of snow in a driveway | Source: Midjourney
It was higher than the hood of Dickinson’s sleek black car. I dusted off my gloves, stepping back to admire our handiwork.
“That,” I said, “is a job well done.”
It wasn’t long before he noticed. Soon, Dickinson stormed over, his face as red as the Christmas lights on his roof.
“What the hell have you done to my driveway?” he bellowed.
A man shouting at someone | Source: Midjourney
I stepped outside, brushing off my gloves like I had all the time in the world. “Oh, Mr. Dickinson, this is a little something called quantum meruit.”
“Quantum what?” His eyes narrowed, his confusion almost comical.
“It’s a legal concept,” I explained with a smile. “It means if you refuse to pay for someone’s labor, you lose the right to enjoy the benefit of it. Since you didn’t pay Ben, we simply undid his work. Fair’s fair, wouldn’t you agree?”
A woman glancing to one side | Source: Midjourney
Dickinson sputtered, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You can’t do that!”
I gestured toward the neighbors who had gathered to watch, their smiles thinly veiled. “Actually, I can. And if you’d like to call a lawyer, keep in mind that I have plenty of witnesses who saw you exploit a minor for free labor. That wouldn’t look great for someone like you, now would it?”
He glared at me, then at the crowd, realizing he’d lost. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stomped back to his house.
A house decorated for Christmas | Source: Pexels
By evening, the doorbell rang again, and there stood Dickinson, holding an envelope. He didn’t look me in the eye as he handed it over.
“Tell your son I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
I closed the door and handed the envelope to Ben. Inside were eight crisp $10 bills. Ben’s smile was worth more than all the money in the world.
Cash in an envelope | Source: Pexels
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, hugging me tight.
“No,” I whispered, ruffling his hair. “Thank you for showing me what real determination looks like.”
Leave a Reply