I Gave Birth to a Pair of Twins

: Raising a Tiger

2

The nanny's name was Melody Hale. She started working for us last year. Unlike the other nannies, she was a young woman.

She had just graduated from college with a degree in nutrition.

When she interviewed, she stood out among a group of middle-aged women, and her skills were superior.

She said she came from a rural area and, as the eldest daughter, knew how to do plenty of housework.

She was working as a nanny to save money for graduate school.

I took pity on her circumstances. Her work was good, and coupled with the fact that she was more educated than the other nannies, I hired her.

Little did I know, I was raising a viper in my own home.

"Mom, Auntie Hale hasn't eaten yet. Why are you picking on her?"

After Melody Hale left, Joyce Thorne came to her defense.

I took the chicken leg right out of her bowl and placed it in my older daughter's.

"Alright. Since you think what Auntie Hale did was right, your sister can have this chicken leg."

The next second, Joyce Thorne burst into tears.

"What are you doing? That was my chicken leg!"

"Does it have your name on it? What are you crying for? You're going to cry away all the good fortune in this house."

Joyce Thorne froze, staring at me in terror.

"This chicken leg doesn't have anyone's name on it. Any of us could have eaten it, but Auntie Hale deliberately made one less so that someone would have to go without."

It's just that my older daughter is used to giving in, which means she never gets one. This has led Joyce Thorne to assume she's entitled to everything.

And I was determined to set her straight.

"It's okay, Mom. I don't like chicken legs."

My older daughter was silent for a long moment before quietly pushing her bowl forward.

Joyce Thorne instantly stopped crying. She had just picked up her chopsticks when I blocked her.

I looked at my older daughter and patted her head.

"Tell me the truth. Are you saying you don't like chicken legs, or are you just giving in to your sister because she's crying?"

My older daughter didn't say a word, just quietly nodded.

"Then let me tell you something. You shouldn't sacrifice your own feelings just because someone else is crying. This is also a lesson for your sister—so she learns that crying doesn't solve every problem. Understand?"

The atmosphere at the dinner table grew tense.

After a long silence, my older daughter finally picked up her chopsticks and started eating the chicken leg.

The moment she saw the chicken leg was gone, my younger daughter threw down her chopsticks, yelled, "I'm not eating!" and stormed into her room.

"It's fine. Let's just eat."

Joyce Thorne hid in her room and began to wail, but she had deliberately left the door open a crack, and the sound of her crying drifted out through the gap.

I pretended not to hear and continued eating, asking my older daughter about school.

The crying didn't finally subside until after dinner.

But soon after, I got a call from my husband.

"I heard Joyce didn't eat dinner tonight. What happened? It was just a chicken leg. Why didn't you just give it to her?"