I have a friend who went on vacation for a few days. She asked me to stop by her apartment from time to time just to check that her cat has food and water. Nothing complicated, just a quick visit. I agreed, especially since we see each other often and I like helping out.
I have two daughters: one is 9 and the other is 7. Usually, after I pick them up from practice, I swing by my friend’s place. The first time I went, my friend was still at home and my younger one (7) was absolutely thrilled. She immediately said, “I want to come see the cat too!” She went upstairs with me, petted the cat, filled up the water bowl, and everything went smoothly. That day I explained that we’d be stopping by again in the following days, so she knew this wasn’t going to be her only chance.
At 7, kids are extremely sensitive about the idea of “my turn.” She saw the first visit as a reward and built an expectation that she could repeat the experience whenever she wanted. This is typical for that age—they’re still developing a sense of fairness, reciprocity, and limits. Her initial excitement was healthy, but in her mind she had already created a “right” to have access to the cat.
The second time it was time to check the cat, I thought it was only fair for my older daughter (9) to come up with me. My reasoning is that I don’t want to take them both when my friend isn’t home. From experience, if I take both girls, they end up fighting over who pours the water, who scoops the food, who gets to hold the cat longer. The purpose of the visit is to check on the animal, not to turn it into a competition.
So I told the younger one: “Today it’s your sister’s turn. Last time it was you, now it’s her.”
This decision was about setting boundaries—something that’s essential in parenting younger kids. At this age, they’re still learning how to deal with frustration and accept that they don’t always get what they want. Not taking both at once was also about keeping the visit calm and focused.
She looked at me in shock and said, “That’s not fair! I want to go! The cat is mine now!”
I tried to explain calmly: “The cat isn’t yours. We’re just helping take care of her. We’ll come again another time and then maybe you’ll get your turn again.”
Her reaction was classic for a 7-year-old: they have a strong sense of fairness but don’t yet distinguish clearly between ownership and responsibility. To her, it felt like injustice. Crying and yelling are ways kids this age process frustration when words and self-control aren’t enough.
Unfortunately, she started crying and raising her voice. In the car on the way home, she was yelling: “It’s my turn now! We’re not going home until we go see the cat!”
Again, I explained: “Last time it was you, this time it’s your sister. Next time we’ll see. For now, we’re going home.”
At that point, it became a power struggle. Young kids often test boundaries to see if they can control their environment. If I had given in, the message would have been that tantrums work. Standing firm meant showing her that rules exist and don’t get erased just because she screams.
When we parked, she flat-out refused to get out of the car. She said firmly: “I’m staying here! I’m not getting out until we go back to the cat!”
We all got out, I locked the car, and we started walking to the building. I wanted to show her that emotional blackmail and tantrums wouldn’t work. But as soon as we reached the lobby, we heard the car alarm. She was squirming inside, pulling at the door. My husband had to go back and physically take her out because she really wanted to “prove” she wasn’t giving in.
Her refusal to cooperate and the way she escalated the situation was clearly a boundary test. It’s normal for kids her age to push back and even try to manipulate through stubbornness, but adult intervention is key. Setting firm consequences—like locking the car and moving on—shows that rules exist and can’t be bent by emotional outbursts.
I’ll admit, I felt awful. It was like being in a movie where a kid is screaming and everyone’s watching. It’s hard to stay calm when your child is yelling and refusing to budge. But I tried not to cave, because I don’t want her to grow up thinking you get what you want by yelling louder than everyone else.
Now I keep wondering: was I wrong not to let her come with me? Should I have just let her have her way to avoid the drama? Or was I right to hold my ground and show her that tantrums don’t change the rules?
Letting her think the cat was hers for eternity was your first mistake. Clearly, you should have signed adoption papers right there, handed her a litter box, and let her raise the cat in the backseat of your car. YTA for not following through.
Boundaries are like vegetables. Kids scream, they gag, they say it’s torture. But if you never serve them, they grow up weak. You gave her broccoli in rule form. NTA.
Oh yes, you should’ve absolutely rewarded a screaming meltdown with VIP access to the cat. Nothing teaches resilience like proving that tantrums buy tickets. /s
Seriously, you’re the parent, not the cat concierge. NTA.
You monstrously cruel woman! How dare you rob your 7-year-old of her God-given right to pet a cat on demand? Do you not realize the Geneva Convention clearly states: ‘Children shall not be deprived of feline contact’? YTA, obviously.
She threw a tantrum, you locked her in the car. She’s 7, you’re 40+. It turned into a battle of wills that nobody won. ESH—except the cat, who just wanted to eat in peace.