Part 2Ten Crabs, Four Plates: How My Sexist Grandmother Finally Got Evicted

Mom reacted to the room-swapping complaint by cold-laughing and pretending she didn't hear it. No matter how many outdated, old-school traditions Grandma cited, it was useless.

If Mom ignored it, Dad—the ultimate devoted husband—would never agree to it either.

As for Leo, the fact that he didn't actively argue with her face-to-face was already the peak of his respect for his elders.

And then there was me.

For days, Grandma couldn't stand the sight of me. But she didn't dare say anything in front of my parents. Instead, she would corner me in secret, talking about how back in her day, girls were put to work in the fields by age seven. She told me that once I finished middle school, I’d be going back to the country with her to do manual labor.

It gave me nightmares for days. I dreamed of angry cows and sheep chasing me, asking why I hadn't cut the grass for them yet.

Leo noticed I looked exhausted and asked what was wrong.

I hesitated, genuinely scared, but eventually told him.

He didn't say anything. But that night, he snuck into Grandma's room wearing a creepy mask and played ghost noises on his phone. It scared the old woman so badly she slipped, fell hard on her tailbone, and had to be rushed to the ER for X-rays and a cast.

Before my parents could double-team him with a spanking, Leo sneaked into my room, crouched by my bed, and said:

"You know, you'd rather have nightmares for days than just tell me. You might as well stop being my older sister and just be my little sister."

"Come on, call me 'Big Brother' and let me enjoy it."

Before I could snap back at him, Mom threw the door open, her face dark like a storm cloud, and hauled him out by his collar. Then came the soprano roaring:

"You little punk! You're getting too bold! First you make your grandmother fall, and now you're making your sister call you 'Big Brother'?"

"If I don't keep you in check, you're gonna start acting like you own this house!!!"

Then came the smack smack sounds of a spanking. Leo was tough—he didn't let out a single cry. A few minutes later, he even provoked Dad, saying, "Didn't even hurt."

So Dad rolled up his sleeves and tagged in.

I hid behind my door, trying to step out and stop them several times, but Leo kept waving me back.

He mouthed silently: [I'm fine. It doesn't hurt. Don't get involved, or that old witch will hold a grudge and make your life hell when she gets back.]

I nodded, crying. But after a few minutes, I couldn't hold it in. I ran out and told my parents the whole story, cause and effect.

They were stunned, but after hearing me out, they didn't say much.

While Dad was putting an ice pack on Leo's backside, he turned to me:

"Chloe, all those things I told you before... I didn't mean you have to just take whatever Grandma dishes out. Girls from her generation had it rough, working the fields at eight or nine was normal, but that doesn't mean it applies today."

Mom took over: "When your dad and I were kids, the hardest thing we ever did was maybe feed the neighbor's chickens a few times. Ignore your grandmother. Quitting school to do manual labor? That's total bullshit!"

When Mom gets fired up, her language belongs in a dive bar, but beneath the crude words was nothing but fierce love for me.

I wiped my tears, nodded, and promised them I wouldn't listen to Grandma anymore.

To me, the incident was over. But it left a massive knot in my mom's heart.

When Grandma got discharged from the hospital, Mom bought her a smartphone and taught her how to use Facebook and TikTok.

Whenever Mom had free time, she would send Grandma videos. They were all highly targeted clips with titles like "Gossiping Old Woman Bitten by Dog," "Mean Grandma Hit by Grocery Cart," or "Karma: Falling Flowerpot Hits Toxic Elder."

Grandma didn't know how to block people, so she spent every day with a dark scowl, watching videos of people her exact age suffering horrific accidents because of bad karma.

"Don't be scared of her, Chloe," Mom said gently while helping me wash my hair in the tub. "Old folks like your grandmother are paper tigers. One match and they go up in smoke."

"Next time she dares to talk trash to you, I'll have your dad boot her right back to her hometown so she can relive her glorious childhood of farm labor."