Okay so this is gonna sound SO BAD but I gotta ask like, am I the only one who feels this way? Like, I love my grandma, obviously. She’s the best. Always bakes those stupid little cookies shaped like farm animals for my cousins and me, even though we’re like way too old for that now. And she lets me watch whatever dumb shows I want when I’m over there, even the ones my mom says are trash. But lately, like, for the past year at least, it’s just… a lot. Every. Single. Weekend. Friday night, Saturday, Sunday. My dad just like, assumes she’s gonna watch my little brother and sister. Dylan is six, and Lily is four. And they’re little hellions, seriously. They climb on EVERYTHING. Last week Lily tried to color the dog. WITH A SHARPIE. And grandma just like, laughs it off and is like “Oh, she’s just being creative!” Like, no, grandma, she’s being a menace. And then I have to help her wrangle them the whole time because my dad just drops them off and is like “See ya Sunday night, mom!” and then he’s GONE. Poof. Like he has some important secret life or something, but he just goes fishing or watches football with his buddies. It’s not even an emergency. And I feel like such a SHITTY granddaughter for even thinking this but like… I have stuff to do too, you know? Like, I have homework, and sometimes my friends wanna go to the movies in Port Royal, which is like, an HOUR away. Or just hang out at the diner, cuz that’s basically all there is to do here. But I can’t. Because I have to be at grandma’s house. EVERY. SINGLE. WEEKEND. Helping with the demon children. And it’s not even like she asks for help, she just kinda looks at me all sad-eyed when my dad drops them off and I know she’s tired. She’s like, sixty-eight. She retired last year from teaching, like, kindergarten for forty years. Forty years of little kids! She deserves a break, right? Not to be doing it all over again every weekend because my dad can’t be bothered to like, get a babysitter or something. It costs money, sure, but he works! He makes good money! I just feel so trapped. Like, I tried to say something once, really casually, like “Hey, what are you doing this weekend?” and he was like “Oh, taking your brother and sister to grandma’s, duh.” And then he kinda gave me this look like, “You coming too?” and I just… couldn’t say anything else. Because then he’d get all mad and say I don’t care about family or something. And grandma would probably get all hurt. So I just shut up and go. Every Friday afternoon, right after school. And I hate myself for wishing I could just… not. Does anyone else deal with this kind of crap? Am I a monster for wanting my weekends back?