When my sister invited me to her upstate vacation house, I was over the moon. I’d been working nonstop, barely holding myself together, and the thought of a week in the quiet countryside with her sounded like the break I desperately needed.
I drove five hours, picturing us on the porch with coffee, laughing like we used to.
But when I pulled up, reality hit me like a brick.
The first thing I noticed wasn’t my sister’s hug or a cozy welcome. It was her three-year-old son toddling around the yard.
Before I could even ask, she appeared at the door, keys in hand.
“Oh, you’re finally here! His snacks are in the fridge, I wrote his bedtime routine on a sticky note, and—ugh—I’m late! My friends are already waiting downtown!”
And just like that, she bolted to her car. I blinked, still holding my suitcase, and watched her speed off, leaving me alone with a toddler in the middle of the forest.
I stood there, stunned. Then the truth sank in. She hadn’t invited me for a “sister getaway.” She had tricked me into being free childcare so she could go party.
My blood boiled.
But no matter how furious I was, I couldn’t take it out on my nephew. He was innocent in all of this. So, I gritted my teeth, rolled up my sleeves, and spent the week looking after him—feeding him, playing with him, tucking him into bed. It was exhausting, but I managed.
And all the while, I plotted.
When she finally rolled back in a week later, sunglasses on, looking “refreshed,” she had the nerve to sigh, “Thanks, sis! You’re a lifesaver.”
I smiled sweetly. “Of course. And since I saved your vacation, you won’t mind saving mine, right?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
I handed her a neatly packed bag I had prepared earlier. “I booked myself a week at a spa resort three hours from here. My vacation starts now. And you? You’ll be spending quality time with your son.”
Her jaw dropped. “You can’t just leave me here!”
“Oh, sure I can,” I said cheerfully, patting her on the shoulder. “You tricked me into babysitting. Now it’s your turn.”
And with that, I walked out, tossed my bag into my car, and drove off to the most blissful, child-free week I’d had in years.
Sometimes, the best reality check is giving someone exactly what they gave you.