When my mother-in-law offered to help for once, I should’ve known there was a catch. One lie. One pair of scissors. And suddenly, my daughter’s trust — and her hair — were gone. I didn’t scream. I didn’t beg. I made one phone call. And the next day, she woke up ruined.When my husband, Theo, told me his mother had offered to watch our daughter for the day, I blinked at him like he’d just asked if I wanted to set the house on fire.”Your mom offered?” I repeated. “Denise?”Theo nodded without looking up from his phone. “Yeah. I think she wants to help. It’s just one day, Hilary.”My daughter, Theresa, had been up half the night with a fever and a sore tummy. She was eight, and her long golden hair was plastered to her forehead.

I had already called into work once this month, and today wasn’t optional.”When did you tell your mom that we needed her to babysit?” I asked.”When you were in the shower. She called me to ask if I could pick up a package for her. She offered to babysit, and I said yes.”When Denise, the woman who, for eight years, refused to babysit because her “dog gets separation anxiety,” suddenly offered, I should’ve trusted my gut and said no.Instead, I kissed Theresa’s head, handed over a bottle of fever medicine, and gave Denise a list of clear instructions. No outside time, no visitors, and absolutely no cold beverages.”She needs rest, cartoons, and fluids, Denise. Please,” I said slowly, as if speaking to someone I didn’t quite trust.I almost laughed. Almost.By noon, I was half-reading an email when my phone lit up with Theresa’s name.Theo and I agreed that eight was too young for a phone, but when I’d upgraded mine, I’d chosen to give her my old phone for days like this, when we were separated.