Rose’s mother-in-law, Deborah, was the one who dictated every holiday, but last Christmas, her antics reached a whole new level. Rose’s little boy returned home with a paper labeled “Grandma’s Naughty List”—a blacklist of family members banned from Christmas dinner. This not-so-nice discovery prompted Rose and her husband to flip the script and create a holiday experience that would not be forgotten.
Christmas is meant to be a time of joy, bringing people together and creating warm memories. However, with Deborah, my mother-in-law, things were a tad more complicated. She wanted to host every holiday event, turning them into feats of management rather than celebration. But the previous year, she hadn’t just crossed the line; she somersaulted over it.
The Christmas spirit was in full swing throughout our neighborhood, yet my eight-year-old son, Ethan, came home looking uncharacteristically glum. Normally, after spending time with Grandma, he’d be a whirlwind of joy, eager to share tales of cookies and stories. But on this day, his mirth was missing, and he dragged his backpack as if it weighed a ton.
I crouched down to his level, asking gently, “Ethan, sweetheart, is something wrong?” At first, he hesitated, and then, handing me a crumpled piece of paper, he whispered, “Grandma told me not to show this to anyone, but I think you should see it.”
My heart skipped a beat. As I unfolded the paper, the words “NAUGHTY LIST” written in Deborah’s precise handwriting met my eyes. Underneath was a list of names, including my parents, siblings, and my lovely Aunt Carol, accompanied by condescending remarks about each. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I finished reading the list’s finale: “Rose’s family ruins every holiday. So, they’re all BANNED from my Xmas Dinner!! :)”
Stunned, I asked Ethan about the list. “Grandma said these people aren’t invited to Christmas dinner because they’re not good enough,” he explained with tears in his eyes. My son had felt the sting of exclusion aimed at others, and he took the chance to snatch the list, hoping Grandma would forget her hurtful words without it.
I gathered Ethan in my arms, assuring him, “Ethan, those are the best times because they’re filled with love and laughter, which is the essence of real family.”
My husband, James, was quick to see the list when he got home. Rather than expressing outrage, a steely determination flickered in his expression. He wanted to end the debacle instead of getting embroiled in it. James proposed hosting the holiday ourselves, reversing the scenario Deborah orchestrated.
We responded to Deborah’s invitation in a way we knew would get her to our home: “Respectfully, we’re hosting this year. We would love for you to join,” my husband casually wrote. Naturally, her curiosity couldn’t resist, and she agreed.
As Christmas morning arrived at our home, there was a joyous buzz—family chatting and sharing stories, filling the house with the aroma of cinnamon and pine. Deborah arrived, her eyes like a hawk’s scanning every movement.
“Ah, so these are the SPECIAL GUESTS?” she remarked, barely concealing her disdain.
“Of course,” James answered warmly. “Family is always special. Would you like to join us?”
Though Deborah tried imposing her cold criticisms, “Oh, another scarf, how original,” her attempts were promptly overshadowed by the genuine warmth of our family enjoying the holiday.
Her husband Frank, on the other hand, had a blast. When gruffness seemed too much, Frank mingled with everyone, even participating in board games that had the hall resounding with laughter.
“I haven’t seen the kids this cheery in years,” Frank murmured to me, “Not since Deborah decided everything needed to be just so…”
I assured him, “You’re welcome here any time, Frank. It’s good to have you around.”
By the end of the evening, even with Deborah’s attempts at disruption—”Monopoly until midnight, James?” If I remarked that Frank and Deborah going back and forth was a kind of tradition, Frank, delightfully, recalled the days when he and his son played until the wee hours. That night, I felt that we had finally broken the hard shell around our family holiday.
