The Cost of "Little Things"

Irina returned from the store, juggling two heavy bags of groceries. One was for her immediate family, the other—for her mother-in-law. The October evening had already surrendered the city to a premature dusk, forcing the courtyard lights to switch on earlier than usual. She climbed the three flights of stairs, opened the apartment door, and the first order of business was to deliver the mother-in-law's bag to her room.

Valentina Ivanovna was ensconced in her armchair by the window, passively watching a television series. She merely gave her daughter-in-law a curt nod.

“Oh, you brought it. Good girl. Just put it on the table.”

Irina placed the bag down, methodically unpacked the bread, milk, cottage cheese, chicken, and vegetables, and arranged them on the shelves of her mother-in-law's small, dedicated refrigerator. It was the same exhaustive list, every single week.

“Valentina Ivanovna, I’ll stop by the pharmacy after work tomorrow, too. Are you running low on your medication?”

“Yes, I’m completely out. Buy the same brand as last time, but please, be absolutely certain that it’s not counterfeit.”

Irina nodded, biting back a sharp retort. Her mother-in-law had been living with them for two years. After the death of her father-in-law, Valentina Ivanovna sold her apartment, pocketed the cash, and promptly moved in with her son and his family. She had placed the entirety of the sale money into a long-term fixed deposit, claiming she was preserving it strictly for "a major rainy day." Meanwhile, she perpetually complained about her tiny pension and its total inadequacy.

“Irisha, dear, could you possibly help me out with a little extra cash?” Valentina Ivanovna began as her daughter-in-law turned to leave. “My pension is just pennies, I can barely afford the essential medicine.” She looked up with an expression calculated to evoke maximum pity, as if begging for her very last piece of bread.

Irina stopped, turning to face her. “Valentina Ivanovna, I already buy all your groceries. And I pay for all your medication. What else is needed?”

“Well, you know, just little things. A woman my age requires certain necessities. Cosmetics, for example. Or perhaps a new headscarf.”

Irina left the room without a word and walked into the kitchen to prepare dinner. The silence she maintained was the only way to manage the escalating demands. Her husband, Oleg, was slumped on the living room couch, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. Their son, Dima, was diligently finishing his homework at the dining table.

“Mom, I’ve almost finished everything,” the boy reported proudly. “Just have to complete the math problems, and then I’m done.”

“Good work. Don’t dawdle, dinner will be ready soon.”

Irina began chopping vegetables for the salad, her mind swirling with the realization that her mother-in-law’s financial dependency was metastasizing. First groceries, then medication, now money for non-essential personal items. She accepted that living on a pension was difficult, but the untouched deposit of apartment money loomed large in her thoughts. Why not touch that fund when she had a genuine need?

At dinner, Valentina Ivanovna pressed the issue again, this time addressing her son directly:

“Oleg, maybe you could help your poor mother? My pension is utterly pathetic. I simply cannot make it through the month.”

Irina’s husband, without looking up, nodded perfunctorily: “Mom, of course. We’ll help. Ira, can you give Mom a little something?”

Irina shot a glance at her husband. Oleg didn't register the intensity of her look. He just chewed his chicken and waited for his wife to comply.

“Oleg, we are helping. Groceries, medicine. What is this extra money for?”

“Well, Mom is asking. We’re certainly not going to refuse her request.”

Irina said nothing more. She finished her meal and went to the sink, her jaw tight. Valentina Ivanovna, thoroughly satisfied, received five thousand rubles from her daughter-in-law that evening.

The Missing Savings

A week later, Dima was anticipating his tenth birthday. His parents had promised him a computer. Since funds for a new model were tight, Irina proposed a plan for self-sufficiency.

“Dima, Dad and I will cover the majority of the cost. You can save the rest yourself. Grandma will give you money for your birthday, and your grandfathers, too. You can put all of that aside.”

The boy agreed enthusiastically. He retrieved an old metal cookie tin, put in the first thousand rubles he’d received at a past celebration, and regularly added spare change found in coat pockets or given to him for small tasks.

The tin was kept on the top shelf of Dima’s closet. He meticulously counted his stash, feeling a surge of pride with every new bill. Irina was secretly pleased her son was learning the value of money and the discipline of saving.

Valentina Ivanovna knew about the savings. She once walked into Dima’s room when he was showing Irina his latest addition.

“Oh, what a thrifty boy you’re growing into!” The mother-in-law leaned closer, peering into the tin. “You’ve chosen a very reliable spot—you might as well open your own bank!”

Dima giggled. Irina smiled, yet something about her mother-in-law's tone struck a false, jarring note. She dismissed the feeling—surely, her grandmother wouldn't harbor ill will toward her grandson.

A few more days passed. Irina returned from work and went to check on Dima’s room. She noticed the tin wasn’t in its usual spot near the front of the shelf; it had been pushed awkwardly to the back.

Irina took it down and opened the lid. Empty. Not a single bill, not a coin. A sharp, cold wave of suspicion hit her. She searched the room—under the bed, in the drawers, across all the shelves. Nothing.

Her son returned from school an hour later. Irina met him in the hall.

“Dima, where is your money? The tin is empty.”

The boy’s eyebrows shot up. “How empty? I put another two hundred rubles in there just yesterday!”

“There’s nothing in it. Are you absolutely sure you didn’t hide it somewhere else?”

“No, Mom. I always keep it right on that shelf.”

Dima ran to his room, grabbed the tin, and peered inside. His face crumpled. “Mom… Someone took it…”

Irina knelt beside him. She examined the tin—no signs of forced entry. Someone had simply opened it and taken the contents.

“Dima, did you tell anyone about the money?”

“Only you and Dad. And Grandma saw it.”

Irina felt a chill. Valentina Ivanovna. But the thought was monstrous—her mother-in-law stealing from her own grandson? It felt too absurd.

“Mom, maybe Dad took it?” Dima suggested innocently.

“We’ll ask him tonight,” Irina promised.

Evasion and Accusation

Oleg came home late. Irina waited until he was done with dinner, then approached him.

“Oleg, did you, by any chance, take the money from Dima’s tin?”

“What tin?” he asked, looking up from his phone.

“His piggy bank. It’s gone.”

“No, I didn’t. What happened?”

“The money is missing. All the savings Dima had for his computer.”

Oleg merely shrugged, returning to his phone. “He probably misplaced it somewhere. He’ll forget about it and then find it again. Kids are constantly misplacing things.”

Irina looked at him. He didn’t even offer to help search; he just brushed her off like an annoying problem.

“Oleg, there was over eight thousand rubles in there. Dima saved for six months. Do you honestly think a child would ‘misplace’ that amount?”

“I don’t know, Ira. Search the apartment thoroughly. You’ll find it.” The conversation, as far as he was concerned, was over.

That evening, Irina went to see her mother-in-law. Valentina Ivanovna was knitting a scarf.

“Valentina Ivanovna, did you happen to see Dima’s tin? His piggy bank?”

“I did. Why?”

“The money is missing from it.”

Her mother-in-law frowned instantly. “So what, you think I took it?”

“I’m simply asking. Perhaps you accidentally borrowed some?”

“Accidentally?!” Valentina Ivanovna’s voice escalated sharply. “Are you daring to accuse me of stealing from my own grandson?!”

“No, I am only trying to determine where the money went.”

“I have no idea where your son squandered it! Maybe he spent it all on cheap sweets! And you immediately come pointing a finger at me!”

She stood up, threw her knitting onto the chair, and stormed out, slamming the door. Irina stood there, her hands shaking with suppressed anger. The mother-in-law hadn’t offered to help search; she had simply deployed outrage and evasion.

The next morning at breakfast, Irina tried again. “Oleg, we need to have a very serious discussion about Dima’s money.”

“Ira, we’ve already talked about this,” her husband replied wearily.

“No, we haven't. You dismissed the issue.”

“What do you want me to do? Search the whole house? I don’t know where the money is.”

“Perhaps we should ask your mother again?”

Valentina Ivanovna slammed her teacup down. “Oleg! Do you hear how she speaks to me?! She is outright accusing me of theft!”

“Ira, that’s enough,” Oleg raised his hand, silencing the table. “Mom did not take anything. Drop it.”

“How do you know that for certain?”

“Because she is my mother! And I trust her word!”

Irina clenched her fists under the table. Oleg grabbed his bag and left for work. Valentina Ivanovna shot Irina a look of triumphant malice and returned to her tea.

The Boy's Confession

That evening, Irina found Dima standing by the kitchen window, looking out into the dark courtyard.

“Dima, what’s wrong?”

He turned. His face was pale and serious, mature beyond his ten years. “Mom, Grandma took it. I know she did.”

“How do you know, sweetheart?”

“She told me. When you went to work. She said she would borrow the money ‘for a while.’ She promised she would put it back when her pension came. I didn’t want to let her, but she said she really needed it. That she had big problems, and that I had to help Grandma because she’s old.”

Irina froze, the air knocked from her lungs. Not only had Valentina Ivanovna taken the money, she had emotionally manipulated the child into complicity and silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me immediately?”

“I thought she would really return it. But a week passed and she said nothing. And when you asked her, Grandma started yelling. I got scared.”

Irina hugged her son, pressing him tightly. “Dima, it is not your fault. Grandma is the one who did something wrong. And we are going to fix this.”

The boy nodded. Irina tucked him into bed, then went back to the kitchen, her hands shaking with a controlled fury. Her mother-in-law hadn't just stolen; she had deliberately abused the child's trust and then launched a vicious counter-attack, accusing Irina of slander.

Irina walked directly to her mother-in-law’s room and knocked. Valentina Ivanovna opened the door, her expression one of defensive displeasure.

“What is it now?”

“Dima told me everything. You took the money and promised to return it.”

The mother-in-law’s face flickered, but she regained her composure instantly. “So what? I’ll give it back. What is the great tragedy?”

“The tragedy is that you lied to a child. And you forced him to keep your secret.”

“I didn’t force anything! I simply asked him for help! I needed the money urgently!”

“For what? You have a two-million-ruble deposit! Withdraw from that if you need money.”

“The deposit is for my old age! I am not touching it!”

“But it’s perfectly acceptable to steal a child’s savings?”

Valentina Ivanovna folded her arms across her chest. “I will return it. When I get my pension. It’s only a week away.”

“You already received your pension. I saw you leaving the bank with the envelope two days ago.”

Her mother-in-law’s face flushed a deep crimson. “Have you been spying on me?!”

“I simply wanted to know the truth. And now I do. You are not a poor pensioner. You are simply accustomed to taking what belongs to others.”

“How dare you! I am your husband’s mother! I have a right to help!” she shouted, standing up.

“Help is when someone is genuinely in need. You are merely exploiting our kindness. Now, I want you to return Dima’s money. Today.”

“In your wildest dreams!”

Irina stood gripping the edge of the wardrobe, her face pale, her hands trembling. But her voice was a resolute steel.

“Valentina Ivanovna, if you do not return the money, I will ensure that you no longer have access to our home.”

“What?! I live here!”

“You lived here. Until today.”

The New Lock and the New Rules

Irina turned and left. She went to the bedroom, took out the spare set of apartment keys—the set her mother-in-law used—and slipped them into her pocket.

That evening, when Oleg came home, Irina confronted him in the hall.

“Oleg, your mother is not going to return Dima’s money.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because she has no reason to. She has over two million rubles on deposit. She is not poor. She is a hoarder and a manipulator.”

Oleg was silent, then shrugged. “So what? That’s her money. For her old age.”

“And it’s fine to take a ten-year-old’s money?”

“Ira, it’s only eight thousand rubles! It’s not the end of the world!”

“For Dima, it is the end of the world! He saved for half a year! He dreamed of a computer! And your mother took all of it and made him keep it a secret!”

“Mom will give it back. Just be patient.”

“She won’t, Oleg. Ever. She is used to taking other people’s money. That is how she lives.”

Oleg went to the window, staring out at the dark courtyard. Irina delivered her final decision:

“I’m taking her keys. From this moment on, Valentina Ivanovna will not enter this apartment without an explicit invitation.”

“Ira, are you serious right now?”

“Absolutely. Your mother stole from our son. And you are defending her actions.”

“I’m not defending her! It’s just… she’s my mother.”

“If she wants to visit—she can call ahead. She will be a guest.”

Oleg turned, his face conflicted. “And if I don’t agree to this?”

“Then I will buy our son his computer with my own money. And you can deal with your mother yourself. But she will not receive another kopeck from this household.”

He stared at her, the tension drawn tight between them. Then, he looked down. “Fine. Do what you think is right.”

Irina left the room. She went to Dima’s room.

“Dima, are you feeling okay today?”

“Yes, Mom. Just upset about the money.”

“I understand. But tomorrow after school, we are going to the store. We are buying you a computer.”

Dima’s eyes lit up. “Really?!”

“Really. You have earned it.”

“But what about the money? Grandma still hasn’t returned it?”

“She hasn’t. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you know your effort is valued. And that I will always stand up for you.”

The boy hugged his mother tightly. The next day, Irina bought the computer herself.

A few days later, Valentina Ivanovna attempted to smooth things over. “Irisha, can’t we stop being angry? I didn’t mean any harm. I just needed the money.”

“Valentina Ivanovna, I’m not angry. I simply set a boundary. You will not take anything from our family without asking—ever again.”

“I didn’t take anything! I asked my grandson for a loan!”

“You took it without my permission. From a child. That is wrong.”

“Fine, I’ll return it!”

“Don’t bother. Consider that the last money you ever took in this house.”

Valentina Ivanovna fumed and complained to her son, but Oleg remained silent. He understood that his wife was right. And for the first time in a long while, he did not take his mother's side.

Dima now kept his money in a small safe in his mother's room, under a reliable lock. Irina no longer felt the crushing weight of guilt. She had protected her son and refused to let her mother-in-law manipulate the family. It was difficult, but absolutely necessary.

Oleg, seeing his mother's true character and his wife's strength, began spending more time with his son. He realized he could no longer blindly cover for his mother. Their family relationship stabilized. Valentina Ivanovna was no longer the sole center of the universe.

And Irina had learned the most vital lesson: how to say no, firmly and finally. She knew that if she didn't protect her family herself, no one else would.