My wife, Susan, and I were over the moon about our 40th wedding anniversary. We’d planned a romantic getaway to a quaint inn on the Maine coast, just the two of us. But our daughter, Emily, tried to turn our dream trip into her family’s vacation, with us as full-time babysitters. That’s when I decided enough was enough.
We’d been dreaming of this trip for years—a cozy spot where we could sip tea and watch the ocean, celebrating our love. It felt like a second honeymoon. But when Emily’s brother, Jack, spilled the beans about our plans, she showed up at our house, ready to guilt-trip us. “Mom, how could you leave us out?” she said over dessert, her voice thick with emotion. “The kids adore you. They’d be crushed if you went without them.” I stayed quiet, watching Susan soften. Emily always knew how to tug at her heart.
Susan tried to explain. “Honey, this is for your dad and me. It’s our anniversary.” Emily clutched her chest. “That’s why we should all go! It’s a family memory. You always say family’s first, Dad.” I took a deep breath. “Emily, this trip is just for us. We need it.” She sighed dramatically. “We never get to do big trips. You’re abandoning your grandkids? That’s not fair.” Her act was convincing, but I wasn’t swayed—yet.
Emily kept at it, calling Susan almost every day with new arguments. “Mom, the kids will grow up and not care about you if you exclude them.” Or, “Dad, don’t you want them to see you as fun grandparents?” Susan started to cave. “Maybe we could include them,” she said one night, looking guilty. “Family’s important.” I nodded. “Sure, but so are we. This was our time.” Still, to avoid drama, I agreed to change plans. We canceled our inn and booked a family resort in Florida, paying for the resort and grandkids’ tickets. Emily and her husband, Mike, only paid for their flights. I hoped it could still be okay.
But Emily’s demands got worse. “Pack lots of snacks for the kids,” she told Susan on a call. “They’re picky, and I don’t trust resort food.” Susan added it to her list, but Emily kept going. “You’ll take them to the pool, right? Mike and I need a break.” I gritted my teeth. Then, two days before the trip, Emily called again. “Can you do bedtime for the kids most nights? We want to check out the nightlife. You’re parenting pros, and it’s your anniversary, so… family time, right?” That’s when I saw it: this was their free vacation, with us as unpaid childcare.
I was done. I called Emily. “This trip was for your mom and me,” I said. “We’re not your babysitters.” She groaned. “Dad, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. You’ll have fun too.” I pushed back. “You want us doing everything—pool, bedtime, snacks. That’s not right.” She snapped, “You don’t care about your grandkids?” I stayed calm. “This was our moment, Emily. We’ve earned it.” She huffed, “Fine, cancel it! We’ll stay home while you two have your fancy trip.” I didn’t argue. I had a plan.
Without telling anyone, I called the airline and switched our tickets back to Maine. The day before the flight, I told Susan. “We’re going to the coast, just us,” I said. She blinked. “What about Emily?” I shrugged. “She’ll manage. We deserve this.” Susan nodded, nervous but with me. As our plane took off, she squeezed my hand. “You’re right,” she said. “But Emily’s going to be mad.” I smiled. “Let her be.”
When we landed, I called Emily. “We’re not going to the resort,” I said. “We’re in Maine.” She exploded. “You left us? We were counting on you!” I stayed calm. “For babysitting?” She didn’t answer. Mike grabbed the phone, yelling, “You’ve ruined our trip! We can’t afford sitters now. You’re so selfish!” I hung up, done with their outburst.
Our week in Maine was everything we’d hoped—quiet walks, candlelit dinners, and time to reconnect. Susan glowed. “I’m so glad we did this,” she said over dessert one night. “Me too,” I said, my heart full. When we got home, Emily wasn’t speaking to us. Mike posted a snarky comment online about “family betrayal.” Susan felt a bit guilty, but I didn’t. Jack said Emily and Mike went to the resort but were overwhelmed with the kids and didn’t enjoy it. The grandkids, though, had a great time.
Emily might want an apology, but I’m not giving one. Sometimes, you have to show people that your time matters. Our anniversary was ours, and it was worth every moment.
