We had planned a quiet anniversary getaway for a long-overdue break. But first, we asked John’s parents—Bob and Janet—to house-sit my elderly father. He lived in the modest home he and my late mother built, where he spent his mornings tending the garden and his afternoons reading. The in-laws eagerly agreed, calling it their “pleasure.”
However, from day one, they acted like they’d moved in—for good. They helped themselves to food without asking, turned the TV volume to max, and behaved as if Dad was invisible. When he offered his favorite lemon cookies, Janet sniffed and rejected them as “dry.” Meanwhile, Bob rearranged the fridge and complained they’d need their own grocery haul.
Within a day, their “help” turned intrusive. Bob scoffed at the house’s age, while Janet suggested Dad didn’t need the “whole house,” hinting he’d fare better in a care facility. He received it all quietly, but behind his calm exterior, he’d begun planning.
Three days before our return, he dropped a bombshell: “Maybe it’s time I moved on. Could you help me pack?” Jubilant, Bob and Janet leaped at the chance—planning renovations and replacements—completely unaware.
Then the final twist unfolded. Movers arrived at the door with paperwork indicating Bob and Janet were being relocated to Cedar Hills Assisted Living. They were stunned to realize they’d packed their own things, arranged by Dad. Meanwhile, he revealed he’d downsized into a condo—declaring, “This house is mine.”
The in-laws fled humiliated. My husband confronted them: “You treated my father as a burden in his own home.” Days later, Janet offered a stiff apology; Dad accepted quietly—having regained his peace and dignity.
Now, he lives contentedly in his new one-bedroom with a garden terrace. As for the moving van? All just a brilliantly executed prank with help from a family friend.
