Why My Daughter Turned Away from Gran: A Family Drama in a Yorkshire Town
Lately, my daughter Sophie had flatly refused to visit her grandmother. I couldn’t understand why—until I uncovered the awful truth. My own mother had been forcing my six-year-old to look after her two-year-old cousin. And if Sophie struggled or the toddler threw a tantrum, Gran would scold her mercilessly. A six-year-old, burdened with that responsibility!
Sophie is my only child, but soon there’ll be another. Since I’m still working, she often stays with the nanny—Sophie hates nursery, and we need the help. The nanny usually watches her till noon, then my mother-in-law picks her up. My own mum couldn’t assist at first—she was still working—but after retiring a few months ago, she offered to take over.
“Why pay a nanny?” Mum said. “Let me have Sophie all day. Extra pension for me, peace of mind for you. Saves money too.”
It sounded perfect. What could go wrong with family watching her? But within weeks, Sophie began sobbing, begging for the nanny back or to stay with her other gran. I pressed her for answers, but she clammed up, as if terrified to speak.
Mornings became a battle. Sophie would cling to me, crying, refusing to leave. I asked Mum what was wrong, but she’d just wave me off: “Stop fussing, it’s fine.” Something felt off, but I had no proof.
Then last week, work let us out early—the servers crashed, so everyone went home. I decided to drop by Mum’s in Leeds unannounced. No call, just a surprise. But the shock was mine.
When I walked in, Sophie was huddled in the corner, her face streaked with tears. She lunged into my arms and, between sobs, confessed: her two-year-old cousin, Jack—my brother’s son—had broken a mug, and Gran had shouted at *her*. Turned out, Mum had left Sophie to “mind” Jack while she ran errands. A six-year-old, left in charge of a toddler!
“Are you serious?” I demanded. “You made one child look after another? And then blamed her?”
Mum said nothing, just scooped up Jack and walked out as if *I* were the unreasonable one. I packed Sophie’s things, and we left. In the car, she finally opened up: Gran always made her entertain Jack so he wouldn’t “get underfoot.” Sophie wanted to draw, to play—not babysit. And if Jack fussed or broke something, Gran punished *her*. Once, when he bumped the table and cried, Mum made Sophie stand in the corner for an hour, calling her “useless.”
I was furious. My own mother, who’d always seemed so caring, had done this. When I confronted her, she didn’t even blink. Said she’d taken up sewing for extra cash and the kids “distracted” her. “What’s the harm?” she argued. “She’s old enough to help. Soon she’ll have a baby brother—good practice.”
“*Practice?*” I choked out. “She’s a child, not a nanny! I’m having a baby for *me*, not for Sophie to raise!”
Mum just shrugged, seeing no issue. But I’d had enough. I rehired the nanny that day and vowed Sophie wouldn’t set foot there again. Mum still doesn’t get it. She rings, sulking, saying I’m “making mountains out of molehills.” But I won’t trust her again. Better a stranger who does their job than family who exploit a child for convenience.