When my husband and I arrived at our son-in-law Tyler’s barbecue, we expected food and family time — not a trap. Tyler and his wife, Brittany, casually tricked us into babysitting their kids. They used us! But if they thought we’d take it quietly, they were dead wrong.
When Tyler and Brittany invited us over for a family barbecue, I was genuinely excited.
My husband Mark and I had always tried to be good in-laws and maintain a positive relationship with Mark’s son (who I’d parented since he was a teenager) and his wife.
“Should we bring anything?” I asked Brittany over the phone.
“Just yourselves,” she replied cheerfully. “We’ve got everything covered.”
On the day of the barbecue, we arrived at their suburban home right on time, a bottle of wine in hand despite Brittany’s assurance.
The front door was unlocked, so we let ourselves in, calling out as we stepped into the foyer.
“Hello? Tyler? Brittany?” Mark called out.
The living room was a mess. Empty beer bottles and used paper plates littered the coffee table. It looked like the barbecue was already over.
We heard laughter coming from the kitchen. Following the sound, we found Tyler, Brittany, and about six of their friends gathered around the island, drinks in hand.
“Jen! Dad! You made it,” Tyler said, but something in his tone struck me as odd.
I glanced around, noticing everyone had their jackets on and purses in hand. One couple was already heading toward the back door.
“You did say 4 p.m., didn’t you? Are we late?” I asked, confused. “It looks like the party’s ending.”
Brittany exchanged a quick look with Tyler before smiling brightly. “Oh, we decided to move things along a bit.”
Tyler nodded. “Yeah, we’re all going out to that new place downtown. You guys can stay and watch the kids. Oh, and the guests’ kids too.”
I blinked, trying to process what just happened. It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t even a discussion. Just an expectation that we would babysit not only our grandchildren but their friends’ children as well.
One of their friends leaned in and said, “Thanks so much! Sitters are so expensive these days.”
Mark and I exchanged a glance. His jaw was tight, but he said nothing.
I cleared my throat and smiled.
“Of course! Have fun.”
Brittany seemed relieved, quickly grabbing her purse. “Great! The kids are in the basement watching a movie. There’s pizza in the fridge if they get hungry again.”
“How many children exactly?” I asked.
“Just seven,” Tyler replied casually, already halfway out the door. “We’ll be back by midnight. Maybe.”
And just like that, they were gone, car doors slamming in the driveway, leaving us standing in their kitchen surrounded by dirty dishes and the faint sounds of children laughing downstairs.
The moment their cars pulled away, Mark turned to me, his face flushed with anger.
“Did they seriously just trick us into babysitting?”
I nodded, still processing the ambush myself. “They didn’t even ask. Just assumed we’d do it.”
“We shouldn’t just silently accept this,” Mark said, his voice low and controlled. “This isn’t right.”
“No, it’s not,” I agreed, but just then, I had a bright idea to turn the tables on my stepson and his wife.
I smiled as I explained my plan to Mark.
“That’s brilliant, Jenny. Let’s do it!”
“I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces,” I giggled. “But let’s make sure the kids are taken care of first.”
Mark nodded, his anger softening. “The kids shouldn’t suffer because their parents are inconsiderate.”
We spent the next few hours playing with the children, a mix of our two grandchildren and five others ranging from four to eight years old.
I served them all a healthy dinner. Then, Mark and I supervised tooth brushing and read bedtime stories.
By half past nine, all seven children were tucked into sleeping bags and beds, fast asleep.
Mark and I then cleaned the kitchen and living room, washing dishes and picking up discarded cups and plates. Not because we felt obligated to, but because I wanted the house to be spotless for what came next.
At half past ten, I picked up my phone and called Brittany.
She answered on the third ring. Music and laughter echoed in the background. “Hello?”
I gasped dramatically into the phone. “Brittany! It’s a disaster! You need to come home now!”
Then I hung up.
My phone immediately lit up with her return call. I showed Mark, then set my phone on the table and let it ring.
“Let them sweat a little,” I said with a smirk.
My phone continued to buzz with calls and texts. I ignored them all. Mark looked at me, a mix of worry and amusement on his face.
“Are we sure about this?”
“Absolutely,” I replied. “They need to learn that they can’t treat us like convenient babysitters.”
Twenty minutes later, we heard cars screeching into the driveway, doors slamming, and footsteps pounding up the front steps. The front door burst open, and Tyler, Brittany, and their friends rushed in, faces pale with fear.
They found Mark and me sitting calmly on the sofa, reading magazines.
Brittany looked around frantically. “What happened? Is everyone okay? The kids?”
“Everyone’s fine,” I said calmly, turning a page. “The kids are all asleep upstairs.”
Tyler’s mouth fell open. “But you said it was a disaster!”
I set the magazine down on the coffee table.
“Oh, that? Just wanted to make sure you’d hurry back. You seemed so eager to leave your children with us last minute, I figured you’d need a reminder of what real responsibility feels like.”
Brittany gaped, stammering, “But… but you said—”
I waved it off with a smirk. “The real disaster was your manners, dear.”
Tyler tried to respond, but Mark clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
We gathered our things and walked out, leaving them stunned in their spotless living room, their friends awkwardly shifting from foot to foot behind them.
In the car, Mark turned to me. “That felt good, but I don’t think they really got the message.”
I smiled. “Oh, we’re not done yet.”
The following weekend, we invited them to a “family dinner” at our house.
They arrived right on time, Tyler carrying a bottle of wine, Brittany holding their youngest.
“Something smells good,” Tyler said as they walked in.
“Oh, I hope you’re hungry,” I replied, leading them to the dining room.
Instead of my usual home-cooked meal, they found takeout containers stacked in the center of the dining table.
“Chinese food?” Brittany asked, clearly disappointed but trying to hide it.
“We thought we’d change things up,” Mark said, smiling.
They settled in, but before they could even open the containers, I clapped my hands. “Oh, by the way! We have to step out for a bit. Hope you guys don’t mind watching the house for us!”
Mark grabbed his coat. “Yeah, just make yourselves comfortable. Oh, and keep an eye out for the neighbor’s dog. He’s a bit wild, but I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Wait, what? You’re… leaving?” Brittany sputtered.
I smiled sweetly. “Oh, don’t worry! We’ll be back… eventually.”
“But what dog?” Tyler asked, looking around in confusion.
As if on cue, our neighbor’s puppy came bounding into the room, nearly knocking over a lamp.
“That dog,” Mark said. “Jim next door is away for the weekend, so we offered to watch Rocket. He’s still in training.”
Brittany’s face fell. “You can’t be serious.”
“Have fun!” I called out as we walked toward the door. “There’s dog food in the pantry. He eats at seven!”
We didn’t leave them in true distress — the dog was well-behaved despite his energy, and we’d left detailed instructions on the counter.
We just went out for a nice, leisurely dinner at our favorite restaurant, taking our time just like they had.
When we returned three hours later, Tyler and Brittany were exhausted.
The neighbor’s dog had knocked over a plant, Brittany had spilled soy sauce on her dress, and they’d spent half the evening cleaning up after the puppy had gotten into the trash.
“How was your evening?” I innocently asked as we hung up our coats.
Tyler rubbed his temples. “Wow, that was… something.”
Mark chuckled. “A little overwhelming when someone drops responsibilities on you without warning?”
Brittany sighed, looking genuinely sheepish. “Okay, okay. We get it. We should have asked before leaving the kids with you.”
Mark chuckled, patting Tyler’s back. “Lesson learned?”
Tyler sighed. “Lesson learned.”
“Good,” I said, opening the refrigerator. “Now who wants some dessert? I made pecan pie this morning.”
Brittany looked up in surprise. “You actually cooked?”
“Of course,” I replied. “The takeout was just part of the setup.”
We finally sat down to eat together. The conversation was a bit stilted at first but eventually warmed up. By the end of the night, we were laughing together again.
As they were leaving, Brittany hugged me.
“I’m sorry we took advantage of you,” she whispered. “We won’t do it again.”
“I know you won’t,” I replied, hugging her back. “And next time, just ask. We’re usually happy to help.”
“Usually?” Tyler asked with a half-smile.
“When we’re asked properly,” Mark replied with a wink.
As we waved goodbye from the porch, Mark put his arm around me. “Mission accomplished?”
I leaned into his embrace. “Mission accomplished.”
Here’s another story: I ignored the little box under our Christmas tree for years. My husband said it was just a memory from his first love, but memories don’t haunt you like that. Last Christmas, something inside me snapped. I opened the gift and found a secret that changed everything.
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.
