I Paid My Sister Double to Babysit My Kids – When I Came Back, I Found Our Pool Filled with Mud
I should’ve known better than to trust my sister, Lila, with babysitting duties, even if I paid her double. She’s always been the chaotic sibling, the one who’d turn a simple picnic into a circus. But my wife, Sarah, and I were desperate for a night out, our first in months. So, I handed Lila $200 to watch our twins, Max and Mia, for six hours. “Keep them safe, no shenanigans,” I said, half-joking. Lila grinned, “You got it, big bro.”
The kids, both seven, adored their quirky aunt. Lila’s the type to let them eat ice cream for dinner, so I figured they’d have fun. Our suburban home was kid-proof, and the backyard pool was locked behind a gate. What could go wrong?
Sarah and I returned at 11 p.m., expecting to find the kids asleep and Lila scrolling her phone. Instead, we were greeted by chaos. The backyard gate was wide open, and our pristine pool was a murky, sludge-filled disaster. Mud oozed over the edges, staining the deck. Max and Mia, covered in dirt, were giggling maniacally while Lila hosed them down, equally filthy.
“What the hell happened?” I roared. Lila, unfazed, tossed me a muddy towel. “Relax, it’s just a little dirt. The kids wanted a mud party.” A mud party? I paid her to babysit, not to turn our pool into a swamp. Sarah looked like she might faint.
Lila explained, as if it were perfectly reasonable, that the kids had begged to play in the dirt pile from our recent landscaping project. She’d agreed, thinking it’d be harmless fun. But Max, ever the instigator, suggested filling the pool with mud to make a “giant mud pie.” Lila, instead of saying no, thought it was “creative” and helped them haul buckets of dirt into the pool. The filter was clogged, the water brown, and the cleanup would cost thousands.
I was livid. “You’re 25, Lila! Not a kid!” She shrugged, saying, “They had a blast. Memories, you know?” Max and Mia nodded eagerly, oblivious to the disaster. Sarah, calmer than me, sent the kids to shower and told Lila to leave. I couldn’t even look at her.
The next day, I got estimates: $5,000 to drain, clean, and repair the pool. Lila texted an apology, offering to pay half, but I wasn’t ready to forgive. Sarah suggested we make Lila babysit for free until the debt was “paid off,” but I wasn’t sure I’d ever trust her again.
Looking back, I realized Lila’s always been this way—impulsive, carefree, and infuriatingly lovable. The kids still talk about the “epic mud party,” and despite my fury, I know they’ll remember it forever. Maybe, in some twisted way, Lila gave them something I couldn’t: a night of pure, messy joy. But next time, I’m hiring a professional.
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