They treated her like an ATM—expecting her to pay for the hotel, meals, gas, and even their souvenirs. She stayed quiet, hoping it was poor planning. Then the worst happened: they left her at a gas station at midnight and took her car to party.
She called me, shaken. I picked her up and made a plan. The next weekend, I took the boys on a “bonding trip” to a remote wilderness camp—no phones, hard labor, and humility.
By Sunday, they were sore, sunburned, and finally ready to listen. They called her, full of guilt. She forgave them. A week later, they repaid every dollar and brought heartfelt letters.
Since then, they’ve changed—for good.
