I smiled sweetly and handed over my boarding pass — Business Class.

“Yep,” I said calmly. “Upgraded myself last week. Figured I deserved peace and wine, not diapers and screams.”

She was fuming. “You can’t just leave me with both kids!”

“Oh, but you declared I was on kid duty. Not invited me. Big difference.”

James awkwardly shifted beside her, holding one stroller and a crying baby. “Babe… maybe we can manage—”

She hissed, “This is not what we agreed!”

I leaned in and whispered, “You said this trip mattered more to you. Enjoy it. I’ll see you after landing.”

Ten hours later, I stepped off the plane rested, fed, and refreshed. She looked like a war survivor — one kid sticky with snacks, the other screaming, and James looking like he aged five years.

“Oh,” I said, “forgot to mention. Babysitting’s not rocket science, remember?”

She didn’t speak to me the whole car ride to our parents’ house. And for once — I didn’t care.

Moral: When someone makes your peace their convenience, remind them: you’re not free labor — you’re family, not furniture.