Another Mom Charged Me $47 after My Daughter Went to Her House for a Playdate

Being a mom of two has become a professional juggling act, but playdates are one of those rare moments of reprieve.

So, when my daughter Charlotte was invited to Lily’s house, I was thrilled. Helen, Lily’s mom, seemed kind and welcoming when we first met during the girls’ swimming meet.

Her smile was warm, and she seemed to really like my daughter, so I immediately felt confident that Charlotte was in good hands.

“I think it would be good for the girls to get together out of school, Tessa,” Helen said. “Bring Charlotte over, and she and Lily can have the time of their lives.”

Immediately, I thought it was a great idea, wondering whether my mother would be free to watch Toby, my two-year-old son. If she was, then a pamper session was definitely in order.

“Sure, darling!” my mother said. “Just bring the little guy over after you leave Charlotte with her friend.”

Charlotte was ecstatic about the playdate. As she packed her favorite doll, I packed a few snacks for her to take along to share with Lily.

“Mom, do you think Lily will like my doll?” Charlotte asked, her eyes shining with anticipation.

“Of course, honey,” I said, smoothing down her hair before we left home. “And I’m sure you’ll both have a fantastic time!”

Dropping her off, I couldn’t help but notice Helen’s organized personality. She greeted us warmly, her house immaculate and organized. Definitely a different world to the chaos in my own home.

She bent down to Charlotte’s level, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Hi, sweetie!” she said. “Ready for some fun?”

“Yes! Thank you for having me over,” Charlotte replied, her politeness making me proud.

“Don’t worry, Tessa,” Helen said, standing up. “We’ll have a great time. You can pick her up around 4-ish.”

I left, my heart lightened by the fact that Charlotte was going to have the time of her life.

A few hours later, I picked Charlotte up. The little girl was glowing, talking non-stop about the games they played and the snacks they ate.

“Mom, we played so many games and had ice cream too!” Charlotte beamed as we walked to the car with Helen.

“I’m glad you had fun, darling,” I said. “Thank you, Helen, for having her over.”

Helen nodded, her smile polite but a bit forced.

“Anytime, Charlotte is a delight,” she said tightly.

I wondered what had happened.

The next morning, I was completely taken aback when I received a Venmo request from a Helen Davis for $47.

The note attached read:

RE: Charlotte’s food and supplies during the playdate.

I blinked, rereading the message a second and third time.

There had to be a mistake.

I opened the detailed breakdown, trying to understand what Helen was about.

$10 for snacks.

$7 for drinks.

$5 for electricity used during video games.

$8 for markers and paper.

$1 for soap (handwashing).

$11 for miscellaneous items (juice boxes and ice cream bars).

$5 carpet cleaning (spilled milk).

“What the actual heck is this about?” I muttered.

Stunned, I texted Helen, hoping to clarify the situation.

Hi Helen, I received your Venmo request. Is this correct?

In reply, Helen called me.

“Yes, everything is correct, Tessa. I kept track of everything Charlotte consumed and used while she was here. It’s only fair you cover her share.”

I was speechless.

“This is a bit excessive. Why didn’t you mention that there would be a charge beforehand?”

“Oh, come on, Tessa,” she said firmly. “I’ve been charged by other parents when my son broke a rare vase in error. It’s only fair that I do the same. I tracked everything down accurately. I hope you understand.”

I sighed.

I didn’t understand, not one bit.

“But charging for soap and electricity seems a bit much. It’s not just about the money, it’s about the principle of not knowing upfront.”

“If you can’t afford it, then maybe Charlotte shouldn’t come over.”

Feeling deceived and furious, I reluctantly paid the $47.

But I was also ready to share the story with the other school moms. If Helen did this once, she would do it again.

To my surprise, while I was at Charlotte’s basketball game, telling the other moms about my experience, several other parents came forward with similar experiences.

“I’m telling you guys, Helen uses playdates as a way to make extra money. She’s done it so many times!” a mom exclaimed.

We decided to give Helen a taste of her own medicine. We organized a community meeting, which Helen had to attend as her children were a part of the children’s activities that were planned in these meetings.

“She’ll show up, Tessa,” Greta, another mom, said. “Helen won’t miss the opportunity to have her opinions heard.”

And of course, she did turn up.

After the meeting, we had a coffee session. And we made sure to keep a meticulous record of everything Helen used. Then, I sent Helen a Venmo request on behalf of the community association for $75.

I detailed the costs so that it would be easy for her to understand:

$10 for coffee.

$5 for water.

$3 for the pen.

$2 for the sheet of paper used.

$4 for napkins.

$8 for the electricity used.

$6 for the room rental.

$10 for the chair rental.

$12 for the snacks.

$15 for the room cleanup.

Naturally, Helen was outraged, and my phone rang two minutes later.

“This is ridiculous, Tessa!” she barked. “Charging me for a pen and paper? You people are absolutely crazy!”

“I thought that you’d appreciate the transparency, Helen. After all, we’re just following your example,” I said.

Word spread quickly, and soon, every parent previously charged for playdates was suddenly sending Helen Davis invoices for everything Helen-related. Soon, Helen found herself inundated with invoices for the most trivial items.

One afternoon, Helen cornered me at the park while Charlotte and Toby were burning off some energy.

“Tessa, they’re asking me to pay for napkins for a PTA meeting, for cookies. Bought cookies, at that, for a book club meeting!”

I refused to speak.

“This has to stop. I can’t go anywhere without getting charged for something ridiculous,” she continued.

Finally, I looked her in the eye, my voice steady.

“Helen, we just wanted you to see how unreasonable your charges were. It’s not fair to spring costs on people after the fact.”

Helen’s shoulders slumped.

“I get it now. It was never about the money. It was about feeling disrespected by me. I understand now.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “Communication is key. We need to be upfront about these things. Especially when our children are involved.”

In the end, Helen realized the absurdity of her actions and stopped charging parents for playdates. She even sent out apologies to everyone she had billed.

“Tessa, did you really bully another mom?” my mother chuckled when I took the kids over to her for some pie and timeout.

“No,” I replied. “I just needed Helen to understand that what she was doing was just wrong. And what made it worse is that Charlotte and Lily get along so well! But Helen’s behavior just turned me off.”

“So, what now?” my mother asked, cutting the pie.

“Now, Helen is a changed woman,” I laughed. “She discusses any potential costs upfront. Not for playdates or anything, but for the community meetings.”

“And the kids? Lily and Charlotte?”

“I’m going to ask Lily over tomorrow for a playdate. It’s our turn to host, and I think Lily will enjoy the chaos of our home compared to the neatness of hers.”

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you.

My Sweetest Old Neighbor Helped Me Unpack & Later, I Found Her Note in the Box – It Made Me Immediately Sell the House

When Phoebe decides that her new chapter begins with a divorce and a new house, she finds a little house in a sleepy neighborhood. As she gets to unpacking, she meets a wonderful neighbor, who has a big responsibility for Phoebe.

When we first moved to the little house at the end of Maple Street, I was filled with hope and a sense of new beginnings. It was just my 6-year-old daughter, Lily, and I.

We were finally starting over after a difficult year: me going through a tough divorce with Lily’s father, and Lily having to navigate life without her father living in the same house.

“It’s okay, Mom,” she said softly to me one night. “I don’t like how Dad always shouted at us.”

It was clear then that we needed to break free.

From the moment I met Mrs. Thompson, she reminded me of my own grandmother. There was this motherly warmth to her that made me feel like moving here was the right decision.

“I’m Hazel,” she said, walking up to our porch with a batch of freshly baked cookies. “I’m so glad you’re moving into the neighborhood. My house is that one.”

She pointed to the little house directly next to mine.

“And who is this little girl?” she asked, seeing Lily jump into a pile of leaves.

“This is Lily, my daughter,” I said, introducing the two. “We needed a new start.”

When our official moving day arrived, Mrs. Thompson insisted on coming over and helping me unpack.

Read the full story here.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.