When my grandsons “surprised” my wife with a trip to Washington, D.C. for her birthday, she was thrilled. She packed carefully, wore her best shoes, and told friends how sweet the boys were. But the thoughtful gesture quickly soured.

They treated her like an ATM—expecting her to pay for the hotel, meals, gas, and even their souvenirs. She stayed quiet, hoping it was poor planning. Then the worst happened: they left her at a gas station at midnight and took her car to party.

She called me, shaken. I picked her up and made a plan. The next weekend, I took the boys on a “bonding trip” to a remote wilderness camp—no phones, hard labor, and humility.

By Sunday, they were sore, sunburned, and finally ready to listen. They called her, full of guilt. She forgave them. A week later, they repaid every dollar and brought heartfelt letters.

Since then, they’ve changed—for good.