Ahead of our biggest wedding anniversary, my wife and I couldn’t wait to celebrate with a marvelous romantic trip for two. However, our daughter tried to wrangle herself and her family along, making all sorts of demands, and that’s when I finally put my foot down.

My wife and I had been planning our 40th-anniversary trip for years. It was going to be a dream vacation to celebrate four decades of love and partnership, just the two of us. But then Jane, our daughter, got wind of our plans, and everything changed for the worse.

My wife, Maggie, and I had booked a cozy little inn on the coast of Maine, the kind of place where you sip coffee on the deck and watch the sunrise over the ocean. It felt perfect—a romantic getaway to relive the early days of our marriage.

But when Jane discovered our plans, she rushed over to our house unannounced! She tried manipulating my wife into allowing her, her husband, and their two children to join!

“Mom, I just don’t understand how you could leave us out,” Jane said that evening over dinner after her oldest brother, Frank, had let it slip that we were going away on holiday.

“The kids adore and look up to you so much! Imagine how hurt they’d be if they found out you went on this amazing trip and didn’t want them there.”

I frowned but kept quiet. Our lastborn child had always been good at working her mother, and I wanted to see how this played out. My wife hesitated, the way she always did when Jane played the guilt card.

Seeing her floundering as she tried to find the right words to get our daughter to back off, I decided to take control of the situation.

“Well, sweetheart, it’s not that we don’t want you there. This is a special trip for us,” I said, trying to reason with Jane.

Our daughter dramatically clasped her hands over her heart, and in my mind, I rolled my eyes just like I’d seen her do before.

“Exactly! That’s why it’s so important for my whole family to be part of it. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime chance for us to bond! You’re always saying how important family is, aren’t you, Dad?”

I took a deep breath to steady myself, determined to stick to my guns.

“Jane, this trip is for us—just your mom and me. It’s our anniversary.”

Jane’s sigh was so dramatic that she deserved an Oscar for her performance.

“Dad, come on! We hardly ever get to do things like this as a family. You’re always preaching about how family is everything, and now you’re ditching us—and your grandkids? How is that fair?”

The conversation didn’t end there. Over the next few weeks, Jane ramped up her efforts. She called my wife, and sometimes roped me in, almost daily, each time with a new angle.

“Mom, you’ll regret not including us when the kids are older and too busy to spend time with you.” Or, “Dad, don’t you want the kids to remember you as fun, involved grandparents?”

Eventually, her persistence wore my wife down. “Maybe we should consider it,” Maggie said one evening as we sat on the couch. “Jane might have a point. Family is important.”

“Family IS important,” I agreed, “but so are we. This was supposed to be our time.”

Still, I could see the doubt in her eyes, and I knew I was outnumbered. To keep the peace, I reluctantly agreed to change our plans. We swapped the charming inn in Maine for a family-friendly resort in Florida.

Jane and her husband, Nick, only had to cover their airfare, while we footed the bill for the resort and the grandkids’ tickets. It wasn’t what I wanted, but I convinced myself it might still be fun.

But as the trip approached, my daughter’s entitlement grew. It started with little things.

“By the way, don’t forget to pack plenty of snacks for the kids,” Jane said one afternoon during a phone call to her mother. “You know how picky they are and I don’t trust resort food.”

My wife glanced at her packing list. “We can manage snacks, but—”

“And you and Dad will take them to the pool, right?” Jane cut in. “Nick and I could really use some uninterrupted relaxation. It’s not like you guys are doing much else.”

I could feel the frustration bubbling inside me, but I bit my tongue.

Then came the final straw. Two nights before the trip, Jane called with another demand.

“Oh, one more thing,” she said casually. “Can you guys handle bedtime for the kids at least three or four nights? Nick and I want to check out the nightlife. You’re the pros, after all, having raised four children. And it’s your anniversary trip too, so… bonding time, right?”

That’s when it hit me. This wasn’t going to be a family trip. It was going to be Jane and Nick’s vacation while we played full-time babysitters! Our romantic anniversary getaway was slipping through our fingers…

The next day, I decided to confront my daughter. I called her while sitting in our bedroom, surrounded by brochures of the original trip we’d planned.

“Jane, we need to talk,” I began. “Your mom and I had a vision for this trip, and it didn’t include us acting as babysitters for you and Nick.”

She let out an exaggerated groan. “Dad, you’re being dramatic. It’s not like we’re asking you to take care of them the whole time. You’ll get to have your fun too.”

“Jane, you’re asking us to do bedtime, pool time, and probably everything in between,” I shot back. “We’re not your personal vacation staff!”

Her tone grew sharper.

“Do you hear yourself?! It’s like you don’t even want to spend time with your grandkids!”

“It’s not that,” I said, trying to stay calm. “But this trip was supposed to be about your mom and me, not you or the kids. We’ve been looking forward to it for years!”

“Fine,” she snapped. “Cancel it then! I’ll tell Nick we’re not going, and we’ll just sit at home while you and Mom gallivant around.”

I didn’t respond. I knew that whatever I said would only add fuel to the fire because Jane had gone too far.

Instead, I made up my mind…

After ending my call with Jane, giving her the impression that she’d won, without telling anyone, I called the airline and switched our tickets back to the original destination.

The day before our flight, I told my wife the truth about what I did. She blinked at me, stunned. “You did what?!”

“We’re going to Maine,” I said firmly. “Just the two of us. Like we planned.”

“But Jane—”

“Jane will figure it out,” I said. “We deserve this trip. And if we don’t take it now, we never will.”

The next morning, we boarded our flight. As the plane soared into the sky, my wife squeezed my hand.

“You know, I think you were right,” she said softly. “I’m just worried about Jane’s reaction.”

“She’ll be fine,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure myself.

When we landed, I called our daughter.

“Jane, I need to let you know we decided to stick to our original plans. We’re not going to the family resort.”

There was silence on the other end. Then Jane’s voice exploded. “WHAT?! You left us? How could you do this? We were COUNTING on you!”

“For what, Jane?” I asked calmly.

Before I could respond, Nick grabbed the phone.

“This is unbelievable!” he shouted. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! You’ve ruined our vacation! We can’t afford babysitters on such short notice. You’re so selfish—on your anniversary, of all times!”

I didn’t argue. I simply hung up.

When we returned a week later, our daughter wasn’t speaking to us. She ignored our texts, and Nick posted a passive-aggressive comment on social media about “people who abandon family.” My wife felt guilty, but I didn’t.

The week in Maine had been everything we dreamed of—quiet, romantic, and restorative. Over a candlelit dinner on our last night, my wife took my hand and smiled. “I’m so glad we came here.”

“So am I,” I said.

Frank later informed us that his sister and her family did go to the family resort but didn’t enjoy it much. The couple had their hands full with their children and barely got any time alone. Luckily, our grandkids had the time of their lives and couldn’t stop talking about it.

On the other hand, Jane might expect an apology, but I stand by my decision. Sometimes, the best way to teach someone a lesson is to show them that your time, and your boundaries, are just as valuable as theirs.