**Diary Entry**
My mother-in-law took offence because my wife and I refused to let her student son move in with us.
Weve been married for eleven years. After years of mortgage payments, we finally own our modest two-bedroom flat. Our eight-year-old son keeps us busy, and life had been ticking along just fineuntil my mother-in-law came up with another one of her “brilliant” ideas, disrupting our peace yet again.
My wife has a younger brother, Alfie. Hes seventeen, and truth be told, weve never been close. The age gap is too wide, and my wife rarely sees him. What irks her most is how their parents coddle himspoiling him rotten, excusing every failure, never asking for even the slightest effort.
Alfie is a dreadful student, barely scraping by in sixth form. Yet every poor grade is rewardeda new tablet, the latest trainers. My wife often mutters, “If Id failed a test, Id have been grounded until Id nailed it. But him? He gets presents!”
I couldnt agree more. Weve watched Alfie refuse to so much as heat up his own meal, sitting idle until his parents serve him, clear his plate, and tidy up after him. Not a word of thanksjust straight back to his room. He doesnt know where his socks are, cant boil a kettle, and treats the house like a hotel. My wife has tried warning her mother: “Youre turning him into a helpless brat!” But she just shrugs. “Hes not like you. He needs more tenderness.”
Rows, grudges, weeks of silencethats how these talks always end. We learned to stay out of it. Until Alfie suddenly decided to study at a university in our city. Then all hell broke loose.
Without a shred of hesitation, my mother-in-law suggested he move in with us. Apparently, student halls were out of the questionno guarantor, rent too steep, and he couldnt possibly manage alone. “Youre family! Youve got a spare roomplenty of space!” she declared, as if it were the most reasonable request in the world.
I tried explaining calmly: one bedroom is ours, the other is our sons. Where, exactly, would a grown man sleep? Her solution? “Just pop an extra bed in your boys room! Theyll get along famously!”
Thats when my wife lost her patience. “Im not a babysitter, Mum! You want to dump your ‘precious boy’ on us? No. Hes your responsibility. I was living alone at seventeenI managed just fine!”
My mother-in-law turned scarlet, burst into tears, called us heartless, and stormed out. Later, my father-in-law rang, furious. “Family sticks together! Youre abandoning your own brother!”
But my wife held firm. Shed visit Alfie if they sorted his own place, but under our roof? Not a chance. “Enough of treating him like a helpless child. Time he grew up.”
“Hes only seventeen!” her father protested.
“So was I when I left home,” she shot back before hanging up.
After that, her mother called repeatedlymy wife ignored her. Then came the text: “Forget about your inheritance.” Frankly? If “inheritance” means raising a spoiled brat, no thanks. Weve earned what we havethrough work, not handouts.
Everyone reaps what they sow. If someone chose indulgence over discipline, let them deal with the consequences. We owe nothing to anyone.
Life teaches you this much: guarding your peace and boundaries isnt selfishits the only way to keep what youve built intact.
