Anastasia always thought her backyard would be her peaceful escape—a quiet place with a hammock, some flowers, and her sister Emma’s old trampoline that no one really used anymore. But ever since her neighbors Sandra and John moved in with their four wild kids, her backyard turned into their playground.
At first, it wasn’t a big deal. One sunny afternoon, while Anastasia was preparing the yard for a gathering with her friends, she saw the neighbor’s kids bouncing like crazy on the trampoline.
They had asked if they could use it, and Anastasia had said yes. “Just for a little while,” she reminded them, “because I’ve got friends coming over soon.”
By 7 p.m., her friends started arriving. Anastasia clapped her hands and called, “Hey, kiddos! Time to go home. My friends are here, and we’re about to start our gathering!”
Tia, one of the little girls, stuck out her lip and whined, “But we’re having so much fun!”
“I know, sweetie,” Anastasia said gently. “But you’ve been bouncing for three hours. It’s time to give the trampoline a rest and let the grown-ups have their time.”
Before the kids moved, Sandra popped her head out of her window and called, “Anastasia, can the kids stay a little longer? They’re having such a good time!”
Anastasia nearly choked. Seriously? What am I, free childcare?
She walked closer, trying to keep her tone 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 understand,” Anastasia replied, firm but calm, “but we’re about to have drinks. It’s not appropriate for the kids to be around.”
Sandra rolled her eyes, then shouted to her children, “Fine, kids, come on in.”
The kids groaned and dragged their feet home. Tia looked back at Anastasia with the saddest eyes she could manage.
Inside, Anastasia’s friend Laura handed her a glass of wine. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just some neighbor drama,” Anastasia sighed. “But now we can enjoy the evening.”
Mike, another friend, chuckled. “Set your boundaries, Ana. Otherwise, they’ll be here every day.”
Emma joked, “Maybe I should hang a sign that says, ‘No kids allowed during parties!’”
Everyone laughed, and the night went on with grilled food, laughter, and wine.
But Anastasia had no idea Sandra wasn’t done testing her patience.
A week later, Anastasia came home from shopping, carrying grocery bags up the porch. She froze in shock. There they were again—the kids, plus their cousin, bouncing on her trampoline like they owned it.
“Hey!” she shouted, dropping her bags. “What are you all doing here?”
One of the boys shouted back without stopping, “Our mom said we could play!”
Anastasia’s jaw dropped. “You need to leave! You can’t just come over whenever you want,” she said, her voice sharp.
The kids ignored her.
Fuming, she marched over to Sandra’s door and knocked hard. Sandra opened it with a fake smile that faded instantly.
“Sandra, your kids are in my backyard again. I told them they need to leave, but they’re not listening.”
Sandra sighed and crossed her arms. “They’re just kids, Anastasia. What’s the harm? You don’t even use that old trampoline.”
“That’s not the point,” Anastasia snapped. “It’s my property. They can’t just barge in whenever they want.”
Sandra’s face turned red. “You’re being ridiculous! They’re just having fun!”
“I’m sorry, but they need to go home,” Anastasia said firmly.
Sandra glared and spat out, “You’re such a Karen!” before slamming the door.
Anastasia picked up her groceries, muttering, Unbelievable. My yard isn’t a public park.
But things only got worse.
That Saturday at 9 a.m., she was jolted awake by shrieks and giggles. She looked out the window and nearly fainted. The kids were back—armed with breakfast bars and water bottles, ready for an all-day marathon.
Even worse, she saw John, Sandra’s husband, kneeling at the trampoline’s safety enclosure with a lockpick!
Her heart pounded. She had put a small chain and lock on the trampoline to keep it off-limits. And here he was, breaking it open like it was a crime movie.
She stormed outside in her robe. “HEY! What do you think you’re doing?” she shouted.
John looked up, startled, then shrugged. “Just letting the kids have some fun.”
“This is my property!” she screamed. “You have no right to break into it!”
Sandra appeared at her doorway, hands on her hips. “What’s your problem, Anastasia? They’re just kids!”
“My problem,” Anastasia said, trembling with anger, “is that you’re trespassing and teaching your kids to pick locks on other people’s things!”
John stood up, defensive. “We’re not hurting anyone.”
“Really?” Anastasia snapped. “You’re literally breaking a lock on my trampoline!”
Sandra smirked. “If you keep harassing us, I’ll call the police and tell them you hit our kids!”
Anastasia’s blood boiled. “Go ahead! Call them! I have footage of your husband picking the lock. I’ll show them everything!”
Sandra’s face turned pale. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me,” Anastasia said, folding her arms.
Sandra cursed under her breath, then dragged her family inside. But Anastasia knew this fight wasn’t over.
The next morning, sure enough, the kids showed up at 9 a.m. sharp. But this time, Anastasia was ready.
A professional nanny she had hired walked into the yard and greeted the kids cheerfully. “Good morning, kids! I’m here to supervise while you play.”
The kids blinked in confusion but shrugged and climbed onto the trampoline. Meanwhile, Anastasia sat on her porch with a cup of tea, finally enjoying her peace.
At noon, Sandra stormed over, fuming. “Who are you, and what are you doing in Anastasia’s yard?”
The nanny smiled calmly. “I’m the nanny hired to supervise your children while they play. Here’s today’s bill.” She handed Sandra a folded paper.
Sandra unfolded it and gasped. “WHAT?! You expect me to pay this?!”
I stepped in. “Sandra, your kids have been trespassing for weeks. I’ve taken steps to make sure they’re safe and supervised. If you want them here, you pay.”
“This is insane!” Sandra screeched. “You used to let them play for free!”
“Not anymore,” the nanny said smoothly. “If you refuse, we’ll take it to small claims court.”
Sandra’s face turned crimson. “This is just a trampoline!”
“It’s MY trampoline. My property. My rules,” Anastasia said coldly.
Sandra dragged her kids away, muttering threats. But in the end, after pressure and the court warning, she grudgingly paid up.
And since then? Her yard has been quiet. The trampoline stands untouched. Anastasia finally got her peaceful retreat back.
Peace at last.