I never expected my birthday party to end with my ten‑year‑old, Ava, accusing a relative of theft.
For nearly a year, Ava saved every penny—birthday money, quarters from chores, even a five‑dollar bill she found in a parking lot with a little cat drawing on it. All of it went into a floral purse under her pillow, her goal being a delicate silver charm bracelet with tiny animal charms.
At my backyard party—a casual gathering of family, food, and water balloons—Ava set her purse down upstairs. Later, she marched downstairs, clutching it like armor.
“Mom, I think Aunt Chloe took my money,” she whispered, eyes wide. She saw Chloe in her room, holding the purse. Chloe said she was looking for lotion and set it down quickly.
I confronted her. Chloe denied it, but when challenged, she reluctantly pulled out the very five‑dollar bill with the cat drawing—and more: $128, exactly what Ava had saved.
Chloe apologized weakly and left the party in silence. After the guests left, Ava and I made over-the-top ice‑cream sundaes, and I told her how proud I was—her courage in speaking up was something remarkable.
The next day, family chipped in via the group chat, sending money to help Ava get her bracelet. That afternoon, I took her to the boutique. Under the glass, the bracelet gleamed. She chose the cat charm without hesitation.