Emma had decided that only we were obliged to spoil her children. My husbands sister had made up her mind that it was our dutyand ours aloneto indulge her kids.
I married William nearly eight years ago. A kind man, always ready to help, with an open heart. But he had one problema sister. Margaret. A woman with boundless imagination and an uncanny ability to twist any innocent remark into a veiled request for an expensive gift.
She never spoke directly. Her words always sounded like harmless musings:
“The children have been dreaming of seeing that new animated film, but tickets are so pricey these days,” shed sigh wistfully. And William, the moment he heard, would buy the tickets, take the nieces and nephews to the cinema, and treat them to popcorn and sweets.
“Such lovely weather,” Margaret would continue, “and youre just sitting at home. You should take them to the fair!” And guess who ended up going with her children? Us, of course. And all of iton our dime.
I never caught on to her subtleties. Nor did I care to. I prefer honesty. If you need somethingsay it. Ask. Explain. Dont dance around the point pretending you dont want anything.
But William always reacted immediately to her “hints.” He adored his nieces and nephews madly. Yet the way he spoiled them knew no bounds. Bikes, gadgets, outingsit all became the norm. Margaret only had to glance his way, and my husband would jump.
Recently, it was little Olivers birthdayMargarets son. Wed already given him a luxury bicycle, which cost us a pretty penny. I thought it was more than enough. But to Margaret, the bike was “trivial.” In her eyes, the child simply had to go on a European holiday. And not alonewith her, naturally. A little boy couldn\t possibly travel by himself!
In Margarets language, it sounded like this:
“Olivers been dreaming of seeing London. His eyes just light up whenever he talks about it”
Instead of tickets, William brought his nephew a cake and a decorative cushion with his initials. I was working that day, and my husband went alone. And, as you can imagine, that was a bucket of cold water for his sister.
But Margaret didnt give up. Her demands only grew year after year. William, seemingly, didnt mind. We had no children of our own, and he poured all his paternal energy into his nieces and nephews. Perhaps because he had nowhere else to direct it.
Thenthe long-awaited news: I was pregnant. I told Williamhe wept with joy, kissed my belly, and couldnt believe it. Hed dreamed of this for years. But then Margaret came
And againwith a request. This time, a spring holiday in Edinburgh. Naturally, with her children. For the first time, my husband refused. He said he was going to be a father now, and all our resources were for our own family. Thats when his sister exploded.
The next day, she called me. She screamed. She accused.
“How dare you?! You did all this just to take away the only man who ever cared for my children!”
I hung up without a word.
Then came another scene. The nieces and nephews waited for William outside his office. They handed him handmade cards.
“Uncle, please, dont abandon us”
“Why do you need your own children when you already have us?”
It was obvious someone had helped them write it. And that “someone” was predictable.
William came home, sank onto the sofa, stared at the cards and something inside him broke.
“Ive been such a fool,” he said. “How many years have I put up with this? ‘The boilers broken,’ ‘I cant afford a winter coat,’ ‘Dad leftUncle, help us.’ Shes always used the kids to manipulate me. And I fell for it. Like an idiot.”
Then, suddenly, he pulled out a notebook. He started listing everything he could remember: bikes, phones, summer camps, holidays, equipment, coats, theatre tickets. The totala staggering sum.
Then came the finale. A finale in Margarets signature style.
She showed up at our house. Stood in the hallway like she owned the place and said:
“Now that youre having your own child, could you do one last good deed? Give us the car. Not for meIm not that shameless. Just so I can take the kids”
William handed her the notebook without a word.
“Thats the total. For everything youve taken. Pay it back. Youve got six months. After thatcourt.”
She slammed the door so hard the coat rack toppled over.
After that, the floodgates opened. Margarets friends bombarded my social media. They wrote that Id destroyed the sacred bond between uncle and nieces. That now the children were “abandoned, starving, and their mother was in despair.”
But you know what? I didnt budge.
Margaret owns two flats. One left to her by her ex-husband, the othergiven by William, who waived his inheritance in her favour. She receives child support. She doesnt live in poverty. Shes just grown used to being owed everything. And nowshe isnt.
Were having a child. And now my husband has a real family. No manipulation, no hysterics, no theatrics. And you know what? I think this is just the beginning
Sometimes, the hardest boundaries to set are the ones we owe to ourselvesand those we love.
