When my sister-in-law, Candace, invited my kids to spend a week at her luxury estate — complete with a pool, games, and every indulgence a child could dream of — I thought it was an incredible gift. Her 12-year-old daughter, Mikayla, often complained of boredom, so having my 10-year-old daughter and 8-year-old son visit seemed like the perfect solution.
She made it sound like a summer wonderland: swimming, gaming, lounging — a dream vacation. I eagerly packed their bags, added in their favorite snacks, and gave each of them $150 to spend freely. I even gave Mikayla $150 to be fair and show appreciation.
When we arrived, the kids were bubbling with excitement. My son was already eyeing the pool, and my daughter hugged me tightly, saying it would be the best week ever. I left feeling reassured, believing they were in great hands.
For three days, I heard nothing. Not a call, not a text, not even a photo. I told myself they were too busy having fun. When I messaged Candace, she replied, “They’re having an amazing time! Pool parties, candy, movies — total paradise!”
I wanted to believe her. But something didn’t feel right.
On the fourth day, my phone finally buzzed — a message from my daughter that chilled me:
“Mom, come save us. Aunt took away our phones. This is my only chance.”
I didn’t hesitate. I jumped in my car and raced the 25-minute drive to Candace’s house, my hands shaking the entire way.
When I arrived, I ran to the backyard — and froze.
My son was scrubbing the pool tiles on his knees, using a brush far too large for him. My daughter was dragging a full garbage bag across the lawn. And Mikayla? She was lounging comfortably by the pool, sipping orange juice, phone in hand — completely unbothered.
Then I saw a clipboard on the patio table. My heart dropped.
Written on it was: “Annie & Dean’s Daily Chores (For Access to Pool + 30 Min of Cartoons)”
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Sweep and mop bedrooms
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Wash and dry dishes
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Fold all laundry
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Clean bathroom sink and toilet
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Wipe down kitchen
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Take out trash and sort recyclables
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Skim and vacuum the pool
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Make lemonade for guests
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Help with BBQs (if Mikayla has friends over)
And at the bottom? Smiley faces drawn like a reward chart.
Candace stepped out and greeted me with a big smile. “You’re early! Everything okay?”
I didn’t even respond. I was too stunned.
Then my daughter quietly came up behind her and whispered, “We didn’t volunteer, Mom. Aunt Candace said if we didn’t do the chores, she’d take our money and make us sleep in the garage.”
That was it. I didn’t argue. I didn’t shout. I just told my kids, “Pack your things. We’re leaving now.”
They didn’t ask questions — they just moved. My son told me their phones had been locked in Candace’s bedroom safe because she said they were “too distracted to work.”
I marched inside and demanded the phones. Candace tried to justify herself with nonsense about “structure” and “building character.”
“Not another word,” I said. “Just give me their phones.”
She handed them over.
I walked out without another glance and drove my kids home. They sat silently in the backseat. Processing.
But I wasn’t done.
The next morning, I sent Candace an invoice:
Labor: Two children x three days = $600
Itemized: laundry, dishes, pool cleaning, trash, food prep — everything.
And a note:
“If you don’t pay, I’ll share photos of Mikayla lounging while my kids worked. Starting with your book club chat.”
She sent the full amount via Venmo within an hour.
I used every penny to give my kids a real vacation: two full days at an amusement park. Cotton candy for breakfast, funnel cake for lunch, roller coasters until they were dizzy — and not one chore.
That night, after pizza and movies on the couch, they told me Mikayla had friends over every day — for pool parties, BBQs, and sleepovers — and my kids were expected to clean up after them, too.
Candace called several times that week. I didn’t answer. She messaged apologies, saying I “overreacted.” That “chores build responsibility.”
Responsibility?
She exploited my children, stole their summer fun, and expected me to be grateful.
But my kids did learn something that week — something real:
That their mom will always show up.
That hard work deserves respect and fairness.
And that no one gets to treat them like servants, no matter how rich or charming they seem.
Candace thought I wouldn’t find out.
She thought I’d stay quiet.
She thought wrong.