When my 12-year-old son Ben took up our wealthy neighbor’s offer to shovel snow for $10 a day, he couldn’t wait to buy gifts for the family. But when that man refused to pay, calling it a “lesson about contracts,” Ben was heartbroken. That’s when I decided to teach him a lesson he’d never forget.
I’d always known my son Ben had a bigger heart than the world seemed to deserve. He was only 12 but carried a determination that could humble men twice his age.
A boy carrying many books | Source: Midjourney
Even so, I never imagined I’d be standing in the icy driveway next to my husband, exacting revenge against the man who thought cheating a child was just another business move.
It all began on a snowy morning early in December. Ben was buzzing with excitement after shoveling the driveway while I made breakfast. He burst into the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the cold.
“Mom, Mr. Dickinson said he’ll pay me $10 every time I shovel his driveway!” His grin stretched ear to ear.
A smiling boy | Source: Midjourney
Mr. Dickinson, our neighbor, was as insufferable as he was wealthy. He always bragged about his business ventures and showed off his luxury toys.
It wasn’t hard to guess he thought he was doing us all a favor by letting Ben “earn” his money. Still, Ben’s excitement was contagious, and I wasn’t about to crush his enthusiasm.
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” I said, ruffling his hair. “What’s the plan for all this cash?”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m buying you a scarf,” he said with the seriousness only a 12-year-old could muster. “And a dollhouse for Annie.”
His eyes sparkled as he described every detail of the red scarf with tiny snowflakes, and the dollhouse with working lights that Annie had been obsessed with since she saw it in the toy store’s window display.
My heart swelled. “You’ve got it all planned out, huh?”
A happy woman | Source: Midjourney
He nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “And I’m saving what’s left for a telescope.”
Over the next few weeks, Ben became a blur of determination. Every morning before school, he bundled up in his oversized coat and boots, a knit hat pulled low over his ears. From the kitchen window, I watched him disappear into the frosty air, shovel in hand.
The muffled scrape of metal on the pavement echoed through the stillness.
A boy shoveling snow | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes he’d stop to catch his breath, leaning on the shovel, his breath forming little clouds in the freezing air. When he came inside, his cheeks were red, his fingers stiff, but his smile always shone through.
“How was it today?” I’d ask, handing him a cup of hot chocolate.
“Good! I’m getting faster,” he’d reply, his grin lighting up the room. He’d shake snow off his coat like a dog shedding water, sending damp clumps onto the rug.
A rug in an entrance hall | Source: Pexels
Each evening, Ben would sit at the kitchen table, tallying his earnings. The notepad he used was dog-eared and smudged with ink, but he treated it like a sacred ledger.
“Only 20 more dollars, Mom,” he said one night. “Then I can get the dollhouse and the telescope!”
His excitement made the hard work seem worth it, at least to him.
By December 23rd, Ben was a well-oiled machine of winter labor.
A person shoveling snow | Source: Pexels
That morning, he left the house humming a Christmas carol. I went about my day, expecting him to return as usual, tired but triumphant.
But when the door slammed open an hour later, I knew something was wrong.
“Ben?” I called out, rushing from the kitchen.
He stood by the door, his boots half-on, his gloves still clenched in his trembling hands. His shoulders heaved, and tears clung to the corners of his wide, panicked eyes.
A sad boy | Source: Midjourney
I kneeled beside him, gripping his arms. “Sweetheart, what happened?”
He wouldn’t talk at first, but eventually, he told me everything.
“Mr. Dickinson… he said he’s not paying me a single cent.”
The words hung in the air, heavy as a stone.
“What do you mean, he’s not paying you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Ben sniffled, his face crumpling.
A boy sobbing | Source: Midjourney
“He said it’s a lesson. That I should never accept a job without a contract.” His voice cracked, and the tears spilled over. “Mom, I worked so hard. I just don’t understand. Why would he do this?”
Anger surged through me, sharp and blinding. What kind of person cheats a child as a “business lesson”? I pulled Ben into a hug, pressing my hand against his damp hat.
“Oh, baby,” I murmured. “It’s not your fault. You did everything right. This is on him, not you.” I pulled back, brushing his hair from his face. “You don’t worry about this, okay? I’ll take care of it.”
A determined woman | Source: Midjourney
I stood, grabbed my coat, and stormed across the lawn. The sight of Dickinson’s house, glowing with holiday cheer, only stoked my fury. Laughter and music spilled into the cold night as I rang the doorbell.
He appeared moments later, wine glass in hand, his tailored suit making him look like a villain straight out of a bad movie.
“Mrs. Carter,” he said, his voice oozing false charm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
A man raising one eyebrow | Source: Midjourney
“I think you know why I’m here,” I said evenly. “Ben earned that money. You owe him $80. Pay him.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “No contract, no payment. That’s how the real world works.”
I clenched my fists, willing myself to stay calm. I opened my mouth to argue about fairness and the cruelty of his supposed lesson, but the look in his eyes told me none of that would persuade him to do the right thing.
A man staring ahead | Source: Midjourney
No… there was only one way to deal with the Mr. Dickinsons of the world.
“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Dickinson. The real world is about holding people accountable.” My smile was so sweet it could’ve rotted teeth. “Enjoy your evening.”
As I walked away, an idea began to form. By the time I stepped back into our house, I knew exactly what had to be done.
A furious woman | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, while Dickinson and his guests still slept, I woke the household with a determined clap of my hands.
“Time to go, team,” I said.
Ben groaned as he crawled out of bed, but caught the determined gleam in my eye. “What are we doing, Mom?”
“We’re righting a wrong.”
A determined woman | Source: Midjourney
Outside, the air was bitter and still. My husband started the snowblower, the rumble cutting through the early quiet. Ben grabbed his shovel, gripping it like a sword. Even Annie, too small for the heavy work, bounced along in her boots, ready to “help.”
We began with our driveway, then moved to the sidewalk, clearing paths for the neighbors. The pile of snow grew steadily as we pushed it all toward Dickinson’s pristine driveway.
The cold bit at my fingers, but the satisfaction of each shovelful fueled me.
A person shoveling snow | Source: Pexels
Ben paused to catch his breath, leaning on his shovel. “This is a lot of snow, Mom,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face.
“That’s the point, honey,” I said, piling another scoop onto the growing mountain. “Think of it as a reverse Christmas miracle.”
Annie giggled as she pushed tiny mounds of snow with her toy shovel. “Mr. Grumpy’s not going to like this,” she chirped.
By mid-morning, Dickinson’s driveway was buried under a fortress of snow.
A huge pile of snow in a driveway | Source: Midjourney
It was higher than the hood of Dickinson’s sleek black car. I dusted off my gloves, stepping back to admire our handiwork.
“That,” I said, “is a job well done.”
It wasn’t long before he noticed. Soon, Dickinson stormed over, his face as red as the Christmas lights on his roof.
“What the hell have you done to my driveway?” he bellowed.
A man shouting at someone | Source: Midjourney
I stepped outside, brushing off my gloves like I had all the time in the world. “Oh, Mr. Dickinson, this is a little something called quantum meruit.”
“Quantum what?” His eyes narrowed, his confusion almost comical.
“It’s a legal concept,” I explained with a smile. “It means if you refuse to pay for someone’s labor, you lose the right to enjoy the benefit of it. Since you didn’t pay Ben, we simply undid his work. Fair’s fair, wouldn’t you agree?”
A woman glancing to one side | Source: Midjourney
Dickinson sputtered, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You can’t do that!”
I gestured toward the neighbors who had gathered to watch, their smiles thinly veiled. “Actually, I can. And if you’d like to call a lawyer, keep in mind that I have plenty of witnesses who saw you exploit a minor for free labor. That wouldn’t look great for someone like you, now would it?”
He glared at me, then at the crowd, realizing he’d lost. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stomped back to his house.
A house decorated for Christmas | Source: Pexels
By evening, the doorbell rang again, and there stood Dickinson, holding an envelope. He didn’t look me in the eye as he handed it over.
“Tell your son I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
I closed the door and handed the envelope to Ben. Inside were eight crisp $10 bills. Ben’s smile was worth more than all the money in the world.
Cash in an envelope | Source: Pexels
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, hugging me tight.
“No,” I whispered, ruffling his hair. “Thank you for showing me what real determination looks like.”
Here’s another story: When I arrived at the hospital to bring home my wife and newborn twins, I was met with heartbreak: Suzie was gone, leaving only a cryptic note. As I juggled caring for the babies and unraveling the truth, I discovered the dark secrets that tore my family apart.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Justine Bateman Defends Herself After Being Called “Old” at 40 and Why She Wants to Age Naturally
People often have a habit of freezing celebrities in their minds when they were at the peak of their fame, forgetting that they are human beings who age like everyone else. In addition, the widespread use of cosmetic surgery and fillers today further distorts our perception of how people naturally look as they age. However, fortunately, there are still some celebrities who remind us that there is absolutely nothing wrong with looking different as we age compared to our younger years.
Justine proudly embraces her age.
If you were a kid or teenager in the ’80s and ’90s, you probably remember Justine as Mallory Keaton from the popular TV show Family Ties. But after that, she shifted her focus from acting to working behind the scenes. Now, she’s a successful author and director. In a recent interview, the actress, now 57 years old, came back into the spotlight to share an important message with all women concerned about getting older.
When she reached her 40s, people considered her “old.”
Justine didn’t think about getting older until she had to search for something online. She wanted to research and refresh her memory about something that happened during her fame. But when she typed her name, Justine Bateman, into Google, the search autocomplete suggested: “looks old.” This happened when she was only around 40 years old.
That revelation actually boosted her self-confidence.
When questioned whether she had ever considered cosmetic procedures, Justine explained that plastic surgery would cause her to “lose all of her authority.” She expressed contentment with her current appearance and emphasized that she finds satisfaction in the visible signs that indicate she has evolved into a different individual from her younger self.
She even decided to write a book about her experiences.
Justine doesn’t criticize those who choose to undergo beauty treatments to appear younger, but she does express a feeling of sadness for them. She explains that she feels sorry for those so preoccupied with the idea of fixing their appearance that it distracts them from focusing on the meaningful aspects of life. In 2021, Justine Bateman released a book titled “Face: One Square Foot of Skin,” which addresses this significant issue.
Women shouldn’t spend too much time fixating on their looks.
Justine shared some exciting news: “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with your face!” she wrote as the caption for an Instagram post promoting her book. Justine draws from her experiences to illustrate society’s obsession with how women’s faces transform as they age. When asked about the beauty of aging, Justine firmly states that she doesn’t care about others’ opinions. She confidently asserts, “I think I look rad. My face represents who I am. I like it, and that’s basically the end of the road.”
Several notable figures in the public eye have made the conscious choice to embrace natural aging, rejecting the pressure to undergo cosmetic interventions. One such individual is Cameron Diaz, who boldly opted to age gracefully without relying on Botox or similar treatments. After an unpleasant experience where Botox altered her appearance in an unexpected manner, Diaz decided to embrace her natural features and allow the aging process to unfold authentically.
Preview photo credit Invision / Invision / East News, Invision / Invision / East News
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