When my brother Ben brushed off my polite requests to return the LEGO masterpieces his son swiped during a family dinner, I stayed calm. But after a month of him “forgetting” to bring them back, I decided it was time for a creative lesson in karma.
It all started at a family dinner. My brother Ben’s nine-year-old son, Jason, suddenly noticed the LEGO dioramas around our house, and his eyes went wide with excitement.
“Look, Dad! A bank robber is hiding from the cops on the mantel!” Jason shouted, pointing at one of the builds.
I smiled and walked over with Ben. “Nice catch, Jason! That’s a new one… even I haven’t seen it yet.” I turned to my boys, Toby and Max. “When did this one join the collection?”
Toby, my 16-year-old, shrugged. “Two days ago. I thought you’d spot it when you were dusting, but guess not!”
I chuckled. You see, my boys and I don’t bond over movies or sports. Instead, we spend hours building intricate LEGO scenes and leaving them around the house like hidden treasures for each other to find.
I bent over and whispered to Jason, “Hey, you should go check the bookcase in the hallway. You might find something cool hiding there.”
His face lit up, and he darted off. A few minutes later, we heard him shout, “It’s Iron Man! And he’s fighting Darth Vader!”
“Hey Toby, Max,” I called, “why don’t you show Jason the LEGO room? I think he’d love the latest project we’ve been working on.”
They eagerly led their cousin away while I sat down with my brother and his wife, Carol, for a coffee. We were catching up, talking about how nice it was that they had moved closer. It was a lot easier to visit now that they were only an hour away instead of across the country.
“It’s great you guys are living closer now,” I said. “Flying for holidays was getting old, huh?”
Ben smiled. “Yeah, definitely. But we already have Christmas plans. How about you come over for a BBQ on New Year’s? Sound good?”
“Deal!” I agreed with a grin.
As the afternoon passed, it was clear Jason had made it his mission to discover every hidden LEGO diorama in our house. My boys were happy to let him explore while they worked on their own LEGO project — Han Solo proposing to Leia on the Millennium Falcon.
Dinner came and went, and everything seemed fine. But an hour after they left, I was elbow-deep in dishwater when I heard Toby’s voice from the LEGO room, filled with disbelief. “Mom? We have a situation here.”
I dried my hands and hesitated. “What’s going on?”
“Chewie’s gone! And so’s the Minecraft Creeper in the Hogwarts Library!” Max called out from the other side of the house.
My stomach dropped. I rushed into the room, and together with Max and Toby, we searched the house. It didn’t take long before we realized — our precious LEGO creations were missing.
We exchanged looks of growing realization. Jason had taken them, I was sure of it.
“I’m sure Uncle Ben will bring them back,” I said, trying to stay calm. “You know how it is with kids. Sometimes they do things they don’t really mean.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed Ben’s number, keeping my voice light when he answered.
“Hey, bro! Funny thing… it looks like some of our LEGO masterpieces decided to go on a little trip with you. Any chance you can bring them back soon?” I said, trying to sound casual.
Ben’s laughter crackled through the phone. “Oh, man! Sorry about that, Carly. They’re just toys though. I’ll bring them next time, promise!”
I felt heat rise in my cheeks. Those “toys” were hours of family work. His dismissive attitude only made me more annoyed.
“Make sure you bring them back, Ben. Those toys mean a lot to us,” I said firmly.
That “next time” turned into weeks of excuses. Every time I saw Ben for coffee, he “forgot” to bring the LEGO back. My boys grew more disappointed with each visit, and I began to realize Ben had no intention of returning them at all. Christmas passed, and still no LEGO.
So, I decided it was time to teach him a lesson.
One evening, I gathered the boys in the living room. “Look, guys,” I began, “I think we need to face the facts. Uncle Ben isn’t going to return our LEGO.”
Max’s shoulders slumped. “So, we just let him keep our stuff?”
I smiled and leaned forward. “Who said anything about letting him? I think it’s time we show Uncle Ben exactly how it feels when someone ‘borrows’ your stuff without asking.”
Toby’s eyes widened. “Mom, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“We’re going to his New Year’s BBQ this weekend,” I said, stirring my hot chocolate. “I’ve already texted him, reminding him he owes us our LEGO. If he doesn’t bring it, I have a little plan.”
The boys exchanged glances and grinned. By the time I finished explaining my plan, they were as excited as little kids on Christmas Eve.
When the BBQ day came, I watched Ben proudly man his grill, wearing his favorite “Kiss the Cook” apron.
“Hey, bro!” I marched up to him with a smile. “You promised to bring the LEGO sets. Where are they? I want to get them in my car right now so I don’t have to worry about it later.”
Ben waved dismissively, flipping a burger. “Oh, I totally forgot again. Next time, sis, promise!”
I caught Toby’s eye and gave him a subtle nod. Operation Payback was officially on. I’d taught my boys the importance of respect, but sometimes, creative justice was necessary.
Max casually wandered inside to use the bathroom, and a few minutes later, he returned with his pockets suspiciously bulging.
Toby helped Carol bring out more drinks and managed to pocket Ben’s favorite bottle koozies in the process. I kept Ben distracted with questions about his grill while my boys “borrowed” items from around the house.
The real fun began when Max snuck Ben’s prized Bluetooth speakers off the kitchen counter and slid them into his hoodie pocket like a seasoned pro.
Three hours later, I gave the signal, and we said our goodbyes, looking perfectly innocent. But just as we were about to leave, I heard a soft “woof” from the backseat. I turned and saw Ben’s golden retriever, Cooper, climbing out of my SUV’s trunk.
“Boys!” I whispered fiercely. “We are NOT dog-nappers! Take him back right now!”
Max protested, hugging Cooper. “But Mom, he looked so lonely! He’s a small item, right?”
“Now!” I tried to look stern, but I couldn’t help laughing. Toby sneaked Cooper back inside while I started the car, knowing it wouldn’t be long before Ben realized what had happened.
Sure enough, my phone buzzed before we even reached home. I waited until we were parked in the driveway to answer.
“CARLY!” Ben’s voice was higher than usual. “Where are my remotes? My speakers? Everything else?”
“Oh?” I examined my nails, pretending to be casual. “Something’s missing? How strange. Must be frustrating.”
Ben was furious. “This isn’t funny! I need my stuff back!”
I paused, enjoying the silence on the other end. “Hmm, I’ll check with the boys. They might know something about ‘borrowed’ items. But, you know, things just slip your mind sometimes.”
He growled, “You wouldn’t.”
I grinned. “Try me, Ben. But hey, bring our LEGO back tonight, and maybe we can work something out.”
Ben arrived at our house 45 minutes later, looking red-faced and carrying not just the missing LEGO sets, but three additional LEGO sets he “thought were ours.”
I graciously handed over his Bluetooth speakers and other items, enjoying every moment of his discomfort.
Ben sighed. “I really think you took this too far. Jason’s just a kid, and—”
I cut him off. “Let me stop you right there. Jason’s old enough to know better. The real issue here is the adult who didn’t follow through with his promise.”
Ben’s face turned even redder. “Fine! I didn’t take it seriously, and I’m sorry, okay?”
I smiled sweetly. “Lesson learned. But just so we’re clear, this is how we’ll handle ‘borrowing’ in the future. Got it?”
He nodded, clutching his speakers tightly. As he drove away, Toby high-fived Max behind me.
“Mom,” Toby said, a grin spreading across his face, “you are seriously scary sometimes.”
I laughed, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Sometimes, the best family bonds are formed through a little creative justice.
What do you think of this version? Let me know your thoughts in the comments!
