I Asked My Daughters to Watch Their Little Brother for 2 Hours – An Hour Later He Begged Me to Come Home

“You’re putting all this responsibility on us like we’re the parents. We did not sign up for this.”

“I asked you to watch him for two hours. TWO HOURS.

That’s not parenting. That’s basic human kindness. And you could not even do that.”

“We said we were sorry,” Kyra defended.

“Sorry does not cut it.

You have one week to find somewhere else to live.”

They both froze.

“What?” Mattie whispered.

“You heard me. One week. Pack your things and get out.”

“Mom, you cannot be serious,” Kyra argued.

“Where are we supposed to go?”

“I don’t care. Figure it out. You are adults.

You have degrees. You will manage.”

“You’re being worse than Dad’s wife,” Mattie spat.

“Good. Maybe she had the right idea.”

Kyra broke down, sobbing.

“You’re choosing him over us.”

“No. I’m choosing not to let my son be neglected and mistreated in his own home. There’s a difference.”

They stared at me, shocked.

Then Mattie grabbed her phone and stormed upstairs. Kyra followed her, grumbling.

I stood alone in the living room, my heart pounding.

It has been two days. They have not spoken to me since.

They move through the house like ghosts, silent and cold, their doors closed. I know they are trying to make me feel guilty and second-guess myself.

And maybe part of me does. They are my daughters.

I love them. I want them to be okay.

But every time I doubt myself, I go upstairs and see Jacob. He is better now.

But he is quieter. He does not ask about his sisters anymore.

Last night, he crawled into bed beside me. “Mom?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Are Kyra and Mattie leaving because of me?”

My heart broke all over again.

“No, sweetheart. They are leaving because of some choices they made. Not because of you.

This is not your fault.”

He nodded, but I am not sure he believed me.

I do not know if I made the right choice. I do not know if I am being too harsh.

But I do know one thing: I will not let my son grow up feeling unwanted in his own home. I will not let resentment and bitterness poison the one safe space he has left.

So I’m asking you. Am I wrong?

Did I overreact? Or did I do what any mother would do when she realized her daughters were willing to let a seven-year-old suffer out of spite?

Tell me. Because right now, I’m drowning in doubt, and I need to know if I just made the biggest mistake of my life.