My SIL Invited My Kids to Her Big House With a Pool for the Holidays – When I Showed Up Unannounced, I Went Pale

I considered it a dream come true when my sister-in-law volunteered to entertain my children at her mansion, complete with activities, a pool, and an unending supply of sweets. However, I drove over unexpectedly after days of silence and a terrifying text from my daughter, and what I discovered in her backyard really shocked me.

I thought it was a terrific idea when my sister-in-law called to invite my children to stay at her opulent home for a week.

On ten acres of property, Candace resides in a massive six-bedroom house. I imagined my eight-year-old son and my ten-year-old daughter playing with their cousin on her PlayStation 5, jumping on the trampoline, and swimming in the resort-style pool.

Despite having everything money could buy, my twelve-year-old niece spent the entire summer bored to death. This seemed ideal for all of our children.

I answered, “That sounds amazing,” as I was already packed their bags in my head. “Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”

Not at all! Mikayla needs companionship. You’d be helping us out.”

In my chest, a warm bloom appeared. This type of summer bliss was well-earned by my children.

“Excellent! On Friday, I’ll drop them off.

I gave them each $150 for treats and packed their favorite snacks and swimwear. In an effort to maintain equality, I even gave Mikayla $150 when I dropped them off.

My mom taught me to always express gratitude with deeds rather than words.

When my daughter got out of the car, she gave me a tight hug. “I’m grateful, Mom. It’s going to be the most amazing week ever.

The sliding glass doors of the pool were already being eyed by my kid. “Can we swim right now?”

“Get unpacked first!” Candace laughed in response. She gave me a smile. They appear to be prepared for some major enjoyment. Mikayla? Would you kindly show your cousins to their rooms?

Mikayla gestured for Annie and Dean to follow her inside after nodding.

I called, “Text me everything,” and they rushed inside.

Just before she vanished from view, Annie smiled and gave me the thumbs up. I smiled as I waved goodbye to Candace and drove away, picturing the fun Annie, Dean, and Mikayla would have over the next week.

That I had just sent my children off to live out a nightmare was something I never realized.

I heard nothing at all from Annie or Dean for three days. Not a call, not a meme, not even a hazy selfie in the pool.

You are aware of how children use their phones? Those are the things they eat. However, my phone remained silent. Annie was often more responsible, although Dean might have become sidetracked by the PS5 and the trampoline.

I had a sinking sensation in my stomach.

“Oh, they’re having SUCH a blast,” was my sister-in-law’s prompt response when I texted her on the third day. Cartoons, candy, and a pool—this place is a veritable kid’s dream!”

I imagined late-night laughs under fairy lights and cannonballs into the deep end. Perhaps they were content and unplugged at last. I decided to ignore the silence.

Day four then arrived.

My phone buzzed while I was wiping crumbs off the kitchen counter. When Annie’s name appeared on the screen, my heart skipped a beat, as it always does when they get in touch with me.

However, the message was brief. The following words hit my chest like a freight train:

“Come save us, Mom. Our phones were taken away by Aunt. It’s my only opportunity.

I didn’t call my husband, Candace, or her.

Tires screaming, I dashed to my car and pulled out of the driveway. All during the twenty-five-minute journey, my hands trembled.

Preserve them? From what? I ran through all the worst-case scenarios in my head, but nothing could have prepared me for what I discovered.

When your kids need saving, parking isn’t important, so I parked crookedly in the drive and rushed to the back gate.

Then I stopped.

As if she worked resort maintenance, my daughter was pulling a bulky black trash bag across the yard.

With a brush that appeared much too large for his tiny hands, my son was on his knees cleaning pool tiles.

Like poolside royalty, Mikayla was drinking orange juice from a mason jar while relaxing on a pool lounger and tapping on her phone.

The clipboard on the patio table, however, was the true slap in the face.

Incredulous, I gazed at the document that was fastened to the clipboard.

Daily tasks for Annie and Dean (to gain access to the pool and watch 30-minute cartoons):

Mop and sweep every bedroom.

Do the dishes and dry off.

Fold all three bedrooms’ worth of laundry.

Wash the toilet and sink in the bathroom.

Clean the counters in the kitchen.

Sort the returnables and take out the trash.

Vacuum and skim the pool.

Prepare lemonade for visitors outside.

Assist with the evening barbecue if Mikayla has visitors.

Additionally, Candace had drawn two cheerful faces at the very bottom.

My palms curled into fists and my skin became extremely chilly. There was no playdate here. It was child labor!

“Oh! You’re ahead of schedule! Is everything alright? As if she hadn’t already shattered my faith in people, my sister-in-law stepped out beaming. “You look… grumpy?”

She giggled as she followed my gaze to the clipboard.

“The duties, huh? Isn’t it adorable that your children offered to help? They desired to earn their time in the pool.

Then I noticed something in my daughter’s eyes that I had never seen before: defeat. She appeared behind her.

Shouting, “We didn’t offer, Mom,” she said. “Aunt Candace said if we didn’t work, she’d take away the money you gave us and make us sleep in the garage.”

The garage? Had she vowed to put my children to sleep in a garage if they didn’t want to work?

I didn’t even have the confidence to look at Candace, much less speak to her. Not when we were so close to a deck chair, the big umbrella that protected Mikayla from the sun, and so many other things that I could use to strike her.

Rather, I called Annie and Dean over and ushered them in.

When I said, “Pack up your stuff,” “We’re leaving right now.”

My children didn’t even pose inquiries. They hurried quickly, cramming clothing into bags as if they had been anticipating this day.

I inquired, “Where are your phones?”

“She locked them in her bedroom safe,” my son’s statement. “Said we were too distracted to work properly.”

Work. They were working like employees, and they were eight and 10 years old.

I offered Annie the car keys. “Put your belongings in the car and wait. I will retrieve your phones.

In the kitchen was Candace. As soon as I walked in, she began to spew out excuses like water from a burst dam.

“It was only an enjoyable system! They enjoy lending a hand! It develops personality! Today’s kids require structure.

I growled. “Not another word,” I said. “Candace, please don’t tempt me any more because I am on the verge of doing something I will regret. Give me my children’s phones, please. “Now!”

In fact, she winced. I’m not sure how I seemed at the time, but she must have understood my meaning since she gave me their phones and watched me walk away in total silence.

I didn’t turn around. My kids sat quietly in the backseat, digesting horror, while I simply drove away.

I wasn’t finished, though. Not even close.

I sent her an invoice the following morning.

Two kids times three days of labor equals $600 in labor services provided.

I listed every item. Dishes, garbage removal, pool upkeep, restroom cleaning, and guest preparation. Even a note was added by me:

“I’ll post pictures of your kid relaxing while mine washed her lemonade cups if you don’t pay. I’ll begin with the group discussion for your book club.

An hour later, guess who sent me a full Venmo?

I took my kids to the amusement park with every last cent of the money. Two days in a row.

They did no chores, ate funnel cake for lunch, rode roller coasters until they felt lightheaded, and had cotton candy for breakfast.

With chocolate from her ice cream cone smeared on her chin, my daughter declared, “Mom, this is way better than that pool.”

“Yeah, and we don’t have to clean anything!” As he spun around on the grass, my son added.

They told me the worst part that evening as we sat down on the couch watching movies and eating pizza.

Every day, Mikayla hosted sleepovers, barbecues, and pool parties for her pals. My children were also forced to clean up after them.

My kid whispered, “Aunt Candace insisted that we should be thankful for the experience.” “That we were learning responsibility.”

As if having to put in so much effort to have access to the pool was a lesson in life.

That week, my sister-in-law made three calls. I didn’t respond.

She sent excuses and apologies via SMS. I removed them all. She even wrote on Facebook that she was attempting to assist, that kids need tasks, and that I was exaggerating.

Help. Exploitation, she referred to as “help.”

My children became housekeepers because of her. She provided them work while stealing their holiday. Perhaps she assumed I would be too courteous to cause a stir, or perhaps she assumed I wouldn’t find out.

She was mistaken.

Although it wasn’t what she planned, my kids did learn something worthwhile that summer.

They discovered that whenever they call for assistance, their mother will always arrive. They discovered that work should be compensated and that fairness is fair. They discovered that while some adults are dishonest, the proper grownups will always look out for them.