Mrs. Johnson, a polished newcomer to the neighborhood, refused to pay my 12-year-old son, Ethan, after he spent two days mowing her huge lawn for twenty dollars. When Ethan told me she dismissed him with, “You should be grateful for the lesson,” my anger boiled.

I decided it was time for her to learn a lesson of her own. The next day, I called my old friend Mark, who owned a landscaping business. I asked him to trim Mrs. Johnson’s hedges into funny shapes—something that would surely catch her attention. Then, I ordered three truckloads of mulch to block her driveway, impersonating Mrs. Johnson in the call.

By evening, the neighborhood buzzed with anticipation as her shiny black car pulled up. Her shock was palpable when she saw the mulch piled high. I sipped my tea from my porch, relishing the moment.

When she confronted me, furious and demanding to know if I was behind it, I simply replied, “Not as funny as stiffing a kid out of twenty bucks.” The crowd of neighbors watched, and she quickly realized she was trapped.

In defeat, she stomped back into her house, returning moments later with a crumpled twenty-dollar bill, which she grudgingly handed to Ethan.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, beaming.

Mrs. Johnson never asked for help again. The story of her lesson in honesty echoed through the neighborhood, reminding everyone that you don’t mess with a mother protecting her son.