Entitlement Comes With a Price — and My Nephews Just Paid It
When my brother asked if I could watch his kids for two weeks while he and his wife jetted off on a luxury vacation, I hesitated. But I said yes — partly out of guilt, partly out of obligation. I figured I could handle a little teenage drama. What I didn’t expect was to be hosting a private screening of The Entitled Life, starring my nephews Tyler (13) and Jaden (15).
From the moment they arrived — dragging designer luggage and dripping disdain — my modest home became their personal comedy roast. The spaghetti I cooked was “prison food.” My furniture was “ancient.” Even my son Adrian’s warm welcome and kind nature were met with snide comments and smirks. He offered video games, snacks, and a seat at the table. They gave him eye-rolls and cruel jokes in return.
I bit my tongue, over and over. I played the gracious host, reminded myself they were kids, and kept reminding Adrian that their behavior said more about them than it ever would about us. But inside? I was counting the hours until I could pack them off to the airport.
And then, the car ride.
I told them to buckle up. Not a request — a rule. A basic safety requirement that exists in every single car I’ve ever been in. Tyler scoffed.
“We don’t wear seatbelts. It wrinkles my shirt.”
I pulled the car over.
What followed was a 45-minute standoff on the side of the road: two teenagers refusing to fasten a seatbelt and one adult refusing to turn the key until they did. They whined. They threatened to have their dad “pay the ticket.” They complained about how “unfair” I was being.
I didn’t budge.
Eventually, with great dramatic sighs, they clicked their belts into place. But by then, traffic had built up — and we rolled up to the airport ten minutes after their gate had closed. Flight missed. No rebooking until the next day.
The look on their faces when they realized they’d actually face a consequence for once in their lives? That was the most peaceful moment of my entire two weeks.
Then the phone rang.
My brother. Fuming. Demanding an explanation. How could I let them miss the flight? Why didn’t I just drive?
That was the moment my patience finally gave out. I let him have it — two weeks of disrespect, two weeks of my son being mocked in his own home, two weeks of hosting ungrateful guests who treated our kindness like a joke. I told him plainly: maybe the real issue isn’t my seatbelt rule — maybe it’s the fact that you’ve raised two kids who think the rules don’t apply to them.
Final Thoughts
This wasn’t just about a missed flight. This was a head-on collision with reality for two kids who’d never been forced to deal with the consequences of their actions. And honestly? I don’t regret a thing.
Because sometimes, the most loving thing you can do isn’t catering to bad behavior — it’s drawing a hard line and refusing to move. Entitlement may fly first class, but consequences always find a way to land.