I looked at the price of the box of macarons. It only had nine small ones, but they cost almost $25. So I said firmly, "If your classmate likes snacks, let him buy them himself. I don't have that much money today. Put it back quickly, or don't buy anything!"

My nephew burst into tears, stamped his feet, and ran out:

"I'm going to tell my dad that I'm a stingy person. I promised to buy myself snacks and then broke my promise!"

I quickly apologized to the clerk and took my daughter after him.

My nephew had disappeared.

The snack shop was three stops away from his home. Worried about him, I braved the scorching heat and searched for him along the way, but couldn't find him.

Finally, I texted my mom, "Mom, is Ramon home yet?"

It took a while for my mom to reply, "He's home!"

My heart finally settled.

But when I got home with my daughter, a teacup flew towards me.

I couldn't dodge in time, and it hit me on the head. The pain was intense, and blood rolled down my forehead.

It was my nephew sitting on the sofa. My brother had gone to pick up my sister-in-law from work, and my mom was cooking in the kitchen.

My nephew came home and couldn't find anyone to complain to, so he took out his pent-up anger on me, who had just arrived.

My daughter was terrified: "Mom, does it hurt?"

Then, with a clenched fist, he rushed over to my nephew and asked, "Why did you hit my mom?"

My nephew grabbed my daughter's hand and bit her wrist.

"This is my house. You, a little girl, don't get to yell at me!"

"She's not my aunt. She's just a meanie!"

"My mom said you and her are both worthless little brats!"

I was furious. I rushed over and covered my daughter's ears to stop her from hearing these words.

At the same time, I sternly scolded my nephew:

"That's enough! Who taught you to talk like that? I think you need a lesson!"

With that, I let go of my daughter and sat on the sofa. I grabbed my nephew and pinned him to my lap, ready to spank him a couple of times to teach him a lesson. Unexpectedly, before I could even lower my hand, my mother shoved me hard from behind.

My head hit the coffee table. The pain so intense I saw stars.

My mother, however, held my nephew, who had jumped from my lap, in her arms and yelled at me with an annoyed look:

"Marjorie, why are you, as an adult, arguing with a child?"

"He's your nephew, can't you just give in?"