When my brother asked me to take in his sons for two weeks while he and his wife went on vacation, I hesitated—but said yes. I figured, how bad could it be? Turns out, very. From the moment they stepped into my modest home with designer luggage and designer attitudes, it was clear they looked down on everything. They mocked our food, sneered at our furniture, and rolled their eyes at my son Adrian’s warm welcome. All I wanted was to make it to the end of their stay without losing my mind.
Every day, they found something to complain about dinner wasn’t “gourmet,” the beds weren’t memory foam, our TV was “too small.” Adrian, bless his heart, tried to connect with them through games, Legos, and movie nights, but they mocked every effort. When he showed them his gaming laptop, they laughed and called it “prehistoric.” I stayed calm, trying to teach by example, hoping they’d learn respect. But they weren’t just snobby they were mean. And watching them hurt my kid broke something in me.
The final straw came when we headed to the airport. They refused to wear seatbelts because “it wrinkles the shirt.” I pulled over and said calmly, “No seatbelt, no ride.” They tried to call their dad to override me he told them to just buckle up. But they kept sulking for 45 minutes while I waited outside the car. By the time they gave in, traffic had built up. We missed the flight. And that was the moment they finally understood: their behavior had consequences.
My brother screamed at me over the phone, blaming me. I snapped. “Maybe if you’d taught them manners instead of spoiling them, they wouldn’t act like royalty.” He hung up. Later, Adrian showed me a message from Tyler: “Your mom’s insane.” I laughed out loud. I’m not insane I just finally gave them what life hadn’t: a boundary. And honestly? I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.