Entitled Neighbor Sends Her Kids to Play in My Garden like It’s Her Personal Daycare — She Deserved a Good Reality Check

I’ve been living with my sister Emma for 10 years, and we’ve still got this old trampoline in the backyard from when she was little.

One sunny afternoon, I was getting the backyard ready for a gathering with friends. I noticed the neighbor’s kids playing on our old trampoline. Sandra and John moved in about a year ago with their four children, and for the past two weeks, the good weather had them outside all the time.

The kids had asked me if they could use the trampoline. I said yes, but only for a little while since my friends were coming over for drinks. It was around 7 p.m. when my friends started to arrive. I decided it was time for the kids to leave.

“Hey, kiddos,” I called out, waving my arms to get their attention. “Time to go home. My friends are here, and we’re about to start our gathering!”

One of the girls, Tia, pouted and whined, “But we’re having so much fun!”

“I know, but you’ve been bouncing for three hours,” I said gently. “It’s time to give the trampoline a rest and let the grown-ups have their time.”

Sandra then poked her head out of her window. “Anastasia, can the kids stay a little longer? They’re having such a good time!” she called out.

Seriously??? I thought to myself. I’m not a babysitter!

I walked over and tried to be polite. “Sorry, Sandra, but I really need them to go now. My friends are here, and we need some adult time.”

Sandra frowned. “Come on, just a little longer? They’re not bothering anyone.”

I took a deep breath. “I understand, but I have guests, and we’re going to start having drinks. It’s not appropriate for the kids to be around.”

Sandra looked annoyed but let it go. “Fine, kids, come on in,” she said reluctantly.

The kids, still upset, slowly climbed off the trampoline and headed home. Tia looked back at me with big, sad eyes.

“Everything okay?” my friend Laura asked, handing me a glass of wine.

“Yeah, just a little neighborly drama,” I said, taking the glass. “But now, let’s enjoy the evening!”

Another friend of mine, Mike, laughed. “You’ve got to set boundaries with those kids. Otherwise, they’ll be here all the time.”

“I know,” I said, nodding. “They’re sweet kids, but I’m not running a daycare.”

“Maybe we should put up a ‘No Kids Allowed’ sign during parties,” Emma joked.

Everyone laughed, and I felt the tension melt away. “Good idea, Emma. But for now, let’s just have a good time.”

The backyard was filled with laughter and the smell of grilled food, and I knew it was going to be a great night.

Last week, though, Sandra just crossed the line.

When I came home from shopping, I found the kids, along with their cousin, jumping on the trampoline again.

“Hey!” I called out, setting my grocery bags on the porch. “What are you all doing here?”

The kids looked at me but didn’t stop bouncing. “Our mom said we could play,” one of them said defiantly.

I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “You need to leave. You can’t just come over whenever you want, okay?” I told them.

They ignored me, and I was shocked. “Come on, you need to go home. Now,” I said stiffly.

Still no response. Frustrated, I walked over to Sandra’s house and knocked on her door.

She answered with a smile that quickly faded when she saw my expression.

“Sandra, your kids are in my backyard again. I told them they need to leave, but they’re not listening,” I said firmly.

Sandra sighed, crossing her arms. “They’re just kids, Anastasia. What’s the harm? You never use that old trampoline anyway.”

“That’s not the point,” I replied. “They can’t be in my yard without permission. I’ve told them before.”

Sandra’s face reddened with anger. “You’re being ridiculous! They’re just playing! Let them have some fun!”

“I’m sorry, but they need to leave,” I insisted. “It’s my property, and they need to respect that.”

Sandra’s eyes narrowed. “You’re such a Karen!” she spat, turning on her heel and calling the kids inside.

I shook my head and picked up my grocery bags, muttering under my breath as I headed inside.

Her nerve was unbelievable, but I was determined to stand my ground. My backyard was not a public playground, and they needed to respect that.

But, early on Saturday at 9 a.m., I woke to the familiar sound of laughter and squeals coming from the backyard.

Groggy and annoyed, I peeked out the window, and there they were, the neighbor’s kids with breakfast bars and water bottles.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Sandra’s husband, John, picking the lock on the trampoline’s safety enclosure!

I had installed a small lock on the mesh safety enclosure and secured the trampoline with a chain to prevent unauthorized use, but apparently, that didn’t stop them.

Furious, I threw on a robe and stormed outside. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” I shouted.

John looked up, startled, but kept working on the lock. “Just trying to let the kids have some fun,” he said as if it were no big deal.

“This is my property, and you have no right to be here,” I said, my voice trembling with anger. “Get off my trampoline and leave now!”

Sandra appeared at her door, hands on her hips. “What’s your problem, Anastasia? They’re just kids.”

“My problem,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “is that you’re trespassing and teaching your kids it’s okay to break into other people’s property.”

Sandra’s husband finally stopped messing with the lock and stood up. “We’re not hurting anyone.”

“Really?” I snapped. “You’re picking a lock on my trampoline! That’s not okay!”

Sandra glared at me. “If you don’t stop harassing us, I’ll call the police and tell them you’re hitting our kids!”

I felt my blood boil. “Go ahead, call the police,” I retorted. “But remember, I have footage of your husband picking the lock. I’ll show them that, too!”

Sandra’s face turned pale. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me!” I said, folding my arms. “Now, get your kids and your husband off my property before I make that call myself.”

Sandra muttered something under her breath, then called to her husband and kids. “Come on, let’s go.”

As they trudged back to their house, I watched them leave, but I knew this wasn’t over. So, I was ready.

When the kids showed up at 9 a.m. again the next morning, I called a professional nanny. She arrived within minutes and went straight to greet the kids.

“Good morning, kids!” the nanny said brightly. “I’m here to supervise you while you play.”

The kids looked puzzled but shrugged and started bouncing on the trampoline. Meanwhile, I settled on my porch with a cup of tea, finally enjoying a peaceful morning.

Around noon, Sandra finally emerged, looking confused and annoyed. She marched over to the nanny, her face red with anger.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in Anastasia’s yard?” she demanded.

The nanny, calm and composed, replied, “Good morning. I’m the nanny hired to supervise your children while they play here.”

Sandra’s eyes widened. “A nanny? Hired by Anastasia? This is ridiculous! She used to let them play here for free!”

The nanny didn’t flinch. “I’m afraid that’s not the case anymore. I’m here to ensure the children are safe and supervised. Here is a bill for my services.” She handed Sandra a neatly folded piece of paper.

Sandra unfolded the bill and gasped. “You’ve got to be kidding me! This is outrageous!”

I couldn’t resist stepping in. “Sandra, your kids have been trespassing on my property. I’ve taken measures to keep them safe and supervised. If you want them to play here, you need to pay for the nanny’s services.”

“This is unbelievable!” Sandra shouted. “You’re being completely unreasonable!”

The nanny remained unshaken. “Ma’am, this is a necessary service. If you refuse to pay, I’ll have to take this matter to small claims court.”

Sandra’s face turned bright red. “You can’t do this! It’s just a trampoline!”

“It’s my property,” I said firmly. “And I have every right to decide who can use it and under what conditions.”

Sandra grabbed her kids, still fuming. “Come on, let’s go! This isn’t over!”

As she dragged them back to her house, I turned to the nanny. “Thank you for handling that so professionally.”

“My pleasure,” the nanny replied with a smile.

I watched from my porch, feeling a mix of satisfaction and relief. The nanny wasn’t cheap; I made sure to hire one of the best and didn’t skimp on the hours, either. The bill was substantial.

Sandra tried to argue and refused to pay at first, but after some back and forth and the threat of small claims court, she eventually coughed up the money. Since then, the kids haven’t set foot in my garden. Peace at last.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one where a woman taught her entitled landlord a harsh lesson after he refused to let her take her appliances with her.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.