When my brother asked me to watch his two pampered sons for two weeks, I knew it wouldn’t be easy—but I didn’t expect full-blown snobbery. From the moment Tyler and Jaden arrived with designer luggage and wrinkled noses, they treated my home like a downgrade. They mocked my cooking, laughed at my son’s laptop, and acted like basic chores were beneath them. My son Adrian tried so hard to bond, but every kind gesture was met with ridicule. I kept my cool—for a while.

By the final day, I was counting down the minutes. I loaded their bags into the car, ready to drop them off at the airport. But when I asked them to buckle their seatbelts, they refused—too “wrinkly” for their designer t-shirts. They even called their dad to whine, putting him on speaker. “Just buckle up!” he barked before hanging up. Still, they sat there, arms folded. That’s when I had enough.

I cut the engine, got out, and waited by the hood. Let them sulk. Let them stew. After 45 minutes of dramatic sighs and complaints, they finally gave in. But karma had been waiting. Thanks to the delay, we hit traffic—and missed their flight by ten minutes. Their shocked faces? Absolutely priceless.

My brother called, furious. “You should’ve just driven them!” he yelled. And finally, I let it rip. “Maybe if you’d taught them respect instead of entitlement, this wouldn’t have happened.” He hung up on me. But the next day, when Adrian showed me Tyler’s message—“Your mom’s insane”—I just smiled. No, sweetie. I’m not insane. I just have boundaries. Try it sometime.