I always knew my stepmom, Monica, wasn’t exactly the nicest person—annoying, yes, but not evil. She was the type who would talk over me, forget my birthday, and call me “kiddo” even though I was practically an adult.
But what she did on my 17th birthday? It was the final straw.
It all started after my mom, Sarah, passed away when I was ten. After that, it was just me and Dad. We were a team—movie nights, pizza dinners, and a mutual understanding that we had each other’s backs, always.
Then Monica came along about three years ago. She wasn’t the worst, just kind of… there. She moved in, slowly took over the bathroom with her endless beauty products, and managed to inch her way into Dad’s life, whether I liked it or not.
Monica had dreams—big dreams—of opening a hair salon. I didn’t have a problem with people having dreams, but I had my own, too, and she treated me like I was an inconvenience that came with the house.
But I had a plan. College was my way out, and Dad had promised me from the time I was little that there was a college fund waiting for me. “Your mom and I set it up when you were five, Lila,” he’d say. “It’s all there, and I add to it every year.”
So, I worked hard in school, counting down the days until I could leave for college and start a life of my own.
On the morning of my 17th birthday, I wasn’t expecting much. Maybe some pancakes, a card—Dad was at work, so it was just Monica and me. But when Monica handed me a gift bag, things took a weird turn.
Inside the bag was a pink funerary urn. Yes, you read that right. An urn.
I stared at it, completely confused. “What the hell is this?” I asked.
Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, a smug look on her face. “It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.
“Symbolic of what?” I asked, already feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Monica smiled wider. “It’s time to bury your college dreams, kiddo. Your dad and I decided to put that fund to better use.”
“Better use?” I repeated, my heart racing.
“Yep. We used it to help me open my salon. College is a gamble, Lila. But a business? That’s a real investment.”
I was frozen. Had they really taken my future, my college fund, and sunk it into Monica’s dream? How could my dad have let this happen?
“Life’s full of disappointments,” she added, as if that was supposed to be comforting.
I ran upstairs and slammed my door, sobbing harder than I ever had. Everything I’d worked for, everything my mom had wanted for me, was gone.
For the next few days, I barely spoke to either of them. Monica pranced around like she owned the house while I sat with the urn on my desk, a twisted reminder of what I had lost.
Then, a few days later, something strange happened.
When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk in Monica’s messy handwriting: Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me.
I almost laughed. Trust her? After what she did?
But my curiosity got the better of me, and against my better judgment, I went.
When I arrived at the salon, the lights were off, but the door was unlocked. Hesitant, I stepped inside. There, in the middle of the room, were Monica and my dad, both grinning.
“Surprise!” Monica shouted.
I was speechless.
“Look,” Monica said, stepping aside to reveal a shiny new sign on the wall: Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah.
“What is this?” I asked, completely lost.
Monica’s smile softened. “We didn’t use your college fund, Lila. It’s all still there. The salon isn’t just for me—it’s for you, too. And for others like you. A portion of the profits will go toward funding scholarships in your mom’s name.”
I blinked, feeling like the ground was shifting beneath my feet.
“But… why make me think otherwise?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around it.
Monica winced. “Yeah, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it would be motivational, like burying the past and embracing the future. Turns out, it was just creepy.”
Dad stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve been planning this for months. Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This way, her dream lives on.”
I stood there, stunned, my anger melting into something softer.
Monica looked at me earnestly. “I’m not trying to replace your mom, Lila. I just want to build something meaningful, something that helps you and others. I know I haven’t been the best stepmom, but I hope this can be a fresh start.”
For the first time in a long time, I smiled.
It wasn’t perfect, and maybe things with Monica never would be. But in that moment, standing in a salon named for my mom, I realized she wasn’t trying to destroy my future—she was trying to honor it in a way I hadn’t expected.
And yeah, I kept the urn. I planted peace lilies in it. Maybe it wasn’t the symbol Monica had intended, but it had become something new. A symbol of hope.
What would you have done in my shoes?
A child dials 911 seeking assistance from police officer.
Generally, we tell our kids to call 911 if they ever need help. But one child took the lesson to a completely new level!
The child was experiencing problems with his homework, so he made the decision to call for help. Since 911 was the only number he knew, he took up the phone and dialed it. Is it true that the people listed on this number are ones that need help? Indeed. I think he was right someplace, too.
The operator who was answering began asking the standard questions. Following a lengthy period of miscommunication, the operator discovered that the child truly had difficulty with math problems.
The entire phone call they had is available below. We were really amused by this and laughed a lot. The YouTube video is also available at the conclusion of the article.
Operator: emergency 911
Boy: I do require assistance.
Operator: What’s wrong?
Boy: Using my arithmetic.
Operator: Using your lips?
Boy: Not using my math. I must complete it. Are you going to assist me?
Operator: Alright. What city do you reside in?
Boy: I can’t do the math.
Operator: You’re right, I understand. But where do you live?
Boy: No, I’d rather have a phone conversation with you.
Operator: I’m not able to do it. I can dispatch another person to assist you.
Boy: Alright.
Operator: What type of math problems are you having trouble with?
Boy: These are my takeaways.
Operator: You must complete the takeaways, I see.
Boy: Certainly
Operator: Okay, so what’s the issue?
Boy: I need your assistance with my math.
Operator: Alright, explain the arithmetic to me.
Boy: Alright. What is 8 minus 16?
Operator: You inform me. How much do you estimate it to be?
Boy: I have no idea, 1.
Operator: Not at all. What is your age?
Boy: I’m just four years old.
Operator: Four!
Boy: Certainly.
Operator: What’s the next issue? That was a difficult one.
Boy: Well, this one’s here. Five things to take away.
Operator: Five minus five, what do you think that is worth?
Boy: five
Female: Johnny What are you doing, exactly?
Boy: I’m getting help with my math from the policeman.
Woman: Did I mention that I was going to call you?
Operator: The mother is here.
Boy: You told me to call someone if I needed assistance.
Woman: The police aren’t who I meant!
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