Anastasia always imagined her backyard would be her little escape—a quiet place where she could relax, enjoy her garden, and sip tea in peace. But ever since her neighbors, Sandra and John, moved in with their four kids, her yard had become something else entirely: a playground she never signed up for.
The kids loved one thing the most: the old trampoline. It had been sitting in the backyard since Anastasia’s sister, Emma, was young. To Anastasia, it was just an old memory, but to the kids next door, it was the best toy in the world.
At first, Anastasia didn’t mind. She thought, What’s the harm in letting them bounce for a while? But Sandra—an entitled woman who always acted like the world owed her something—kept pushing her limits.
One sunny afternoon, Anastasia was preparing the backyard for a gathering with friends. She had set out drinks, snacks, and even lit some candles when she noticed the neighbor’s kids already jumping on the trampoline.
She sighed, wiped her hands on a towel, and walked over.
“Hey, kiddos,” she called, waving. “Time to wrap it up. My friends are coming soon.”
Little Tia, the youngest, pouted. “But we’re having so much fun!”
“I know,” Anastasia said gently, “but you’ve been bouncing for three hours. Time to let the trampoline rest, okay?”
That’s when Sandra’s voice rang out from her window. “Anastasia, can’t the kids stay a little longer? They’re having such a good time!”
Anastasia froze. Seriously? I’m not running a daycare!
She walked closer, forcing a polite smile. “Sorry, Sandra, but my friends are here now. We’re having an adult evening. It’s not really appropriate for kids.”
Sandra’s face tightened. “Come on, just a little longer. They’re not bothering anyone.”
Anastasia took a deep breath. “I understand, but no. Please have them come inside now.”
Sandra rolled her eyes and shouted, “Fine, kids, come in!”
The children dragged their feet, leaving slowly. Tia glanced back with wide, sad eyes that nearly made Anastasia feel guilty.
But her friend Laura appeared with a glass of wine. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Anastasia said with a sigh. “Just a little neighborly drama. But now let’s enjoy the evening!”
Her friend Mike chuckled. “You’ve got to set boundaries, Ana. Otherwise, those kids will be here every day.”
Emma, always the joker, added, “Maybe we should put up a big sign: No kids allowed during parties!”
Everyone laughed, and the night continued with good food and laughter. But Anastasia knew deep down—this wasn’t the end.
She was right.
The following week, Anastasia returned from shopping to find the trampoline full again—this time with the kids and their cousin.
“Hey!” she shouted, setting her grocery bags down. “What are you doing here?”
One of the boys smirked. “Mom said we could play.”
Her jaw dropped. “You can’t just come over whenever you want. This is my yard!”
They ignored her, bouncing higher. Furious, Anastasia stormed to Sandra’s door and knocked hard.
Sandra answered with a fake smile that faded quickly.
“Sandra, your kids are in my yard again,” Anastasia said firmly. “I asked them to leave, but they’re not listening.”
Sandra crossed her arms. “They’re just kids, Anastasia. What’s the harm? You never use that old trampoline anyway.”
“That’s not the point,” Anastasia shot back. “They can’t come here without permission.”
Sandra’s face turned red. “You’re being ridiculous! They’re just having fun!”
Anastasia’s voice sharpened. “Sandra, they need to leave. Now.”
That’s when Sandra snapped. “You’re such a Karen!” she hissed before calling her kids inside.
Anastasia muttered under her breath as she carried her groceries inside. Unbelievable. But she swore to herself: They won’t win.
The final straw came on a Saturday morning. At 9 a.m., the sound of squeals and laughter jolted Anastasia awake. She peered out the window—and froze.
There they were again, eating breakfast bars on the trampoline like it was theirs. But this time, she nearly choked on her coffee when she saw John—the father—picking the lock on the safety net enclosure she had chained shut.
Her blood boiled. She stormed outside in her robe. “HEY! What do you think you’re doing?”
John barely looked up. “Just letting the kids have some fun.”
“This is MY property!” Anastasia yelled. “You’re trespassing and teaching your kids to break locks!”
Sandra came outside, arms on her hips. “Oh, relax, Anastasia. They’re just kids!”
“Really?” Anastasia shot back. “Your husband is breaking into my trampoline like a burglar. That’s not just kids—that’s trespassing!”
John straightened, muttering, “We’re not hurting anyone.”
“Oh no? Because I’ve got footage of you picking that lock,” Anastasia snapped.
Sandra gasped, her face pale. “You wouldn’t dare show anyone!”
“Try me,” Anastasia said, crossing her arms. “Call the police if you want—but remember, I’ll show them the footage.”
Sandra glared, then finally snarled, “Come on, kids. Let’s go.”
But Anastasia knew it wasn’t over.
The next morning at 9 sharp, Anastasia heard squeals again. But this time, she was ready.
When the kids bounded into her yard, a woman with a clipboard and bright smile greeted them.
“Good morning, kids! I’m your nanny for the day,” she said cheerfully.
The kids looked confused but shrugged and started bouncing while the nanny supervised. Anastasia sipped tea on her porch, calm at last.
Around noon, Sandra stormed out, furious. “Who the hell are you?” she snapped at the nanny.
The woman smiled politely. “I’m the nanny. Anastasia hired me to supervise your children.” She handed Sandra a paper. “Here’s the bill for today.”
Sandra unfolded it and shrieked. “This is outrageous! You’re charging me?!”
Anastasia walked over, smiling sweetly. “Sandra, your kids keep trespassing. So I made sure they were supervised—for their safety. If you want them to play here, you pay for the nanny.”
“This is insane!” Sandra shouted, her face red.
The nanny stayed calm. “If you refuse to pay, ma’am, I’ll have to take this to small claims court.”
Sandra dragged her kids away, fuming. “This isn’t over!”
But it was. Because after Anastasia threatened legal action, Sandra reluctantly paid the huge bill.
Since then, not a single child set foot in Anastasia’s backyard. At last, her garden was hers again.
And every time she sipped tea on her porch, she couldn’t help but smirk. Peace at last.