Back in high school, my brother had a fling with a classmate of his. Nine months later, she showed up on his doorstep with a baby and claimed it was his. My brother didn’t even question it. He filled out the forms required for custody, signed the birth certificate and everything, and took the baby in as his daughter.

As you can imagine, EVERYONE wasn’t happy with my brother’s decision.

It was pretty obvious what happened. His classmate was rather promiscuous. Whoever was dating her at the time took one look at her baby and was like, “She’s not mine,” and walked out on her. So, she thought back on which guys she’d been with nine months before and chose the one who was most likely to take her baby off her hands before flouncing off.

My dad was especially pissed at my brother. He was adamant that the baby wasn’t his and that she should be adopted off. However, my brother stuck to his guns.

Brother: “She’s mine. End of story.”

I’m pretty sure he was in denial, but he didn’t slack off on parenting, no matter how harshly he was criticised by literally everyone else in his life. He also absolutely refused to have a DNA test performed.

Fast forward six years. My niece was the spitting image of her mother. By this point, the entire family had warmed up to her. My brother was married and had a baby boy now. His wife was the perfect stepmom. Life was happy…

…with one notable exception: my dad.

Dad, being the stubborn man he is, was still adamant that my niece wasn’t my brother’s and wanted to prove that.

So, one day, when he was on babysitting duty, he took my niece to a clinic, and they took her blood. They also took her cheek cells for good measure. Dad also submitted his own DNA and told my niece not to mention anything to [Brother].

Instead, [Niece] told her stepmom, and my sister-in-law told my brother… who promptly went ballistic.

[Brother] is never — and let me repeat this — NEVER angry. Frustrated, yes. Annoyed, quite frequently. But anger? Never. He’s the most mild-mannered guy I know.

So imagine the depths of his rage that he grabbed our father — a man twice his size — by the collar and slammed him against a wall. A screaming match ensued, and my brother gave Dad a black eye to hammer in this one point: [Niece] was his. End of story. No ifs, ands, or buts. My sister-in-law also got really weepy and promised my niece that she would always be her little girl, no matter what.

After the shouting match:

Dad: “You can’t fight blood. Wake up, son. She ain’t yours. Never will be.”

Brother: “F*** blood. [Niece] is my daughter because I say so. And I will go to the ends of the g**d*** universe for her if I have to.”

Dad: “You’ll see. Oh, you’ll see once that test comes in.”

Sometime later, my mom’s birthday arrived, and the whole family came to celebrate. Ever since the fight, my brother had avoided Dad like the plague, but he always had a soft spot for Mom, so he brought his whole family to the dinner party.

Once the food was finished, Dad suddenly pulled out two things: a birthday cake with “I f****** told you so” on it in frosting and a large envelope. He showed us the label on it. It was the DNA test.

Dad: “And now, for the moment of truth. Indisputable proof that [Niece]’s mother played the cuckoo on us.”

He opened the envelope and pulled out the results sheet. He then read it and rocked back in utter shock, desperately rereading it. Dad then collapsed onto his chair, looking like he had seen a ghost, and I took the test from him.

[Niece] was my brother’s.

I passed it to him and his wife and their faces lit up. My sister-in-law squealed and hugged her stepdaughter. My brother said nothing but turned the cake around so that the message on the frosting faced our father, instead. We all then hugged [Niece], laughing at how she really was blood.

My father was so shocked that he spent the rest of the evening catatonic. Once he got over it, he actually apologised and tried his best to make it up to my brother’s family, but it never really happened.

I like to knit and crochet during the year, and then I give the scarves and hats that I make to my aunt’s church; they organise parties for really low-income families. These parties are filled with games and activities for the children. I love helping my aunt during this time, by giving my time and knitting stuff for those less fortunate.

My brother recently started dating this girl, and to be kind, and honest, I don’t like her. She has trouble understanding personal space, privacy of others, and boundaries. She will insist that you tell her all about private affairs that you don’t want to talk about and will make it her business. She has been constantly trying to get me to date her friends that I’m not interested in. At one point, she thought I was a lesbian because I didn’t like any of the guys that she wanted to set me up with.

When my aunt talked about the church’s plan to still offer help during Christmas despite the health crisis, I told her that I had a lots of scarves and hats to give at home. My aunt was delighted and asked me to bring them to her as soon as possible. I agreed. However, the day I wanted to bring them to her, I was called to come into the office to replace a colleague.

I asked my brother’s girlfriend if she could pick up the bag with the scarves and hats that was sitting at the top of my stairs, not in my living room!

I have a seven-year-old niece who wants to be a police officer like her dad when she grows up and loves the colour pink. The more sickly-sweet pink, the better. She’s a sweet kid who doesn’t ask for much. She asked me to make her a neon hot pink hat and scarf with a white heart. I agreed and had just finished them both and left them in a drawer in my living room. I was planning to wrap them up and give them to my sister later on.

This evening, I came home from work, exhausted. I noticed my brother’s girlfriend had come by and taken the bag. “Oh, great!” I thought. It reminded me of my niece’s gifts.

However, when I went to get them, they were gone. I checked everywhere for them, thinking I had misplaced them. Then, it hit me. Maybe I had put them with the donation bag by mistake. I immediately called my aunt, but she couldn’t find them. There was no neon hot pink scarf or hat with a white heart.

I called my brother’s girlfriend in a panic. She picked up and told me that she had seen the scarf and hat. Oh, thank God, right? Nope! Turns out that my brother’s girlfriend had decided that I hadn’t given enough for charity, so she decided to snoop around my house to find some more. She took four other scarves and hats that were for other people and my niece’s gift. She also decided to rearrange my drawers because they were not clean and organised.

I put my anger on the back burner for a while, because my niece’s gift was more important for now. When I asked my brother’s girlfriend what had happened to it, she responded that she had taken it and given it to her niece because her sister was in need. To say that I was offended and pissed is like saying that fire burns.

I proceed to lose my s*** at her. How dare she? She goes through my stuff, takes my belongings, gives away my gift for my niece, and then she has the gall to give me a lecture on how I should be happy that I helped a spoiled brat who has two parents making seven figures a year? I told her that if the scarf and hat weren’t in my possession by tomorrow night, I was going to sue the s*** out of her. She scoffed and hung up. I called everyone in my family, including my brother.

Twenty minutes ago, my brother’s girlfriend brought me the scarf and hat back and apologised. She was in tears and begged me not to involve my brother-in-law, a cop. My brother-in-law — bless his heart — had swung by her house and threatened to have her arrested for thievery.

I just took my stuff back, thanked her for doing the “right” thing, and closed the door on her. I was so angry at her that I was numb inside.

My niece will have her gift, my aunt has the knitted stuff I made for her church, and my brother is now single. What a day!

My mother and father have asked that I spend more time with my grandmother as she hasn’t been looking well lately. I agree and figure a good thing would be to bring her food and maybe tidy up her house a little. I call her on a Saturday.

Me: “Hi, Grandma, how are you?”

Grandma: “Oh, not great. Been feeling dizzy and I don’t eat much.”

Me: “Well, how about I bring some haluski? I got a great recipe that uses bacon and it’s pretty good if I may say so myself!”

Grandma: “That sounds good. Maybe you can come Monday.”

Me: “Sounds like a plan, love you!”

Grandma: “Love you.”

Two hours later, my mom texts me that my grandfather has taken Grandma to the ER because she got dizzy enough that she couldn’t stand or walk without aid. As a family, we tend to joke a bit to deal with stressful news, so when I see my sister on Sunday, I know the perfect joke.

Me: “I guess the thought of eating my cooking was enough to send her to the hospital!”

It made my sister laugh because she doesn’t usually eat what I make and it helped to relieve a bit of stress. We’re still waiting to hear about Grandma, as she’ll be in the hospital for a bit, so send good vibes, please!

About thirty years ago, when I was a preschooler, my mom and I went to visit my great-grandparents who lived in a neighborhood in Seattle. It was customary at their house to enter through the back door, so we parked and headed through the backyard.

To my surprise, there was a dog sitting in the yard. I was very excited; my great-grandparents hadn’t had a dog last time we visited.

Me: “Mom, can I pet the dog?!”

But she was already pulling me back around to the front of the house. I was so upset that she wouldn’t even entertain the question of whether we could go see the dog; she was too busy knocking on the front door.

My great-grandfather answered.

Great-Grandfather: *Confused* “Why did you come to the front door?”

My mom ushered me inside and closed the door behind us.

Mom: “There’s a coyote in the backyard!”

No wonder she didn’t let me pet it!

My aunt tends to go through cars like you wouldn’t believe and has just ruined her thirtieth car. Yes, thirty cars. My grandmother, her mother, offers to give her my late grandfather’s car since my grandmother no longer needs two cars. But that isn’t good enough for my aunt. She has her eye on an over-priced seven-year-old SUV with a ridiculous amount of miles, and because of her financial situation, she needs someone to co-sign to get a loan for the car.

My grandmother, who lost her husband not even two years ago, has no interest in co-signing for a “new” car that will probably die before it is paid off. So, at Sunday dinner one week, my aunt asks my father, her younger brother, if he will co-sign for her car loan.

Father: “No way in heck. If I co-signed for a car for anyone it would be for my sixteen-year-old daughter, not you. Take Dad’s old car.”

This triggers a major fight between my father and his sister, which ends in my aunt screaming:

Aunt: “If you won’t co-sign for my car loan, I’ll call child protective services because [My Name] is sleeping on a mattress on the floor.”

My bed frame broke not even a week ago so I am sleeping on a box spring and mattress on the floor until we can get me a new bed frame. None of us think anything about the threat, since my aunt has a habit of making empty threats when she doesn’t get her way.

A few days later, I get called down to the guidance office in the middle of a chemistry test for an “urgent matter.” When I get to the office, I am led into a small room with the school’s social worker and another woman.

Woman: “Hello, [My Name]. I have a few questions about your living arrangements.”

She asks me questions like, “What’s your home life like?” “How do your parents treat you?” “Are you happy at home?” and, “Do you have your own room?” It isn’t until she asks one more question that I start to mentally piece things together.

Woman: “How do you sleep at night?”

Me: “What is this about?”

Woman: *Hesitating* “We received an anonymous tip that your father is forcing you to sleep on the floor. We want to know what that’s about.”

And that’s when everything clicks and I am livid.

Me: “I’m not being forced to sleep on the floor. My bed frame broke about a week ago, so I’m currently sleeping on a box-spring and mattress until my new bed gets delivered. I’ll bet you any amount of money my aunt was the person who made that anonymous tip because my father refused to co-sign for her to get a new car.”

The woman from CPS looks stunned.

Woman: *To the school social worker* “Do you have any way of reaching her father to confirm this?”

Unfortunately, I have no idea what is said during that conversation since I am sent out of the room during the call, but it’s safe to assume my father confirms what I said. Once they get off the phone with my father, the woman and the social worker come out.

Woman: “I’m very sorry about this, [My Name].”

Me: “I understand. You were just doing your job.”

And I went back to class.

When confronted about it, my aunt admitted to making the call to CPS and my grandmother was FURIOUS. She made sure my aunt didn’t end up getting the SUV she wanted and she was forced to take my late grandfather’s 1998 Chevy Cavalier. Unfortunately, my aunt didn’t get in any legal trouble for the false CPS report due to it being an anonymous tip, but my father gave her a harsh warning about what would happen to her if she pulled another stunt like that again.