Picture this: You’ve been counting down to a Papa Roach concert for six months, the tickets are in your wallet, the hotel room is booked, and the only thing missing is a good pair of headphones. Suddenly, your 10‑year‑old starts coughing, has a “slight fever,” and refuses to eat her lunch. You’re at home, working from the couch, and she’s your only reason to stay put. You’ve got a split‑custody schedule that’s practically a well‑orchestrated relay race—she’s at her dad’s on Fridays, you pick her up the next Sunday for horseback riding, and the summer is a whirlwind of family adventures.

Enter the villain: the other parent, who apparently thinks you’re a “selfish bitch” for dropping her off at his house while you’re headed to a concert. He claims you’re the one who should keep her at home “until she’s feeling better.” Oh, and he’s already had her at his place last weekend, so the risk of transmission is practically zero.

So the big question: Is the mom an AITA for ditching her sick kid to rock out?

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The “I’m Going to the Concert” Argument (Because My Life Is More Important Than a Mild Cough)​

1. Ticket Takedown – “I bought a ticket 6 months ago. It’s non‑refundable.”
   We all know that’s the most emotional justification for anything these days.

2. Non‑Sick‑Kid‑Allowed – “She’s feeling better.”
   Sure, she’s on a 10‑point scale of “mildly uncomfortable.” How could you possibly be responsible?

3. Dad’s “Selfish” Label – “He called me a selfish bitch.”
   And he’s the one who can’t handle a little cold? What’s next, a broken heart?

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The “Dad’s the One Who Should Be the One” Argument (Because He’s the One Who Has to Decide)​

1. Split Custody – “I’m the one who picks her up on Sundays.”
   But wait, he’s got her on Fridays, so why should he be the one to keep her at home?

2. Risk Assessment – “She was already at his house.”
   Yes, but your mom is the one who’s going to the concert, so the exposure is you and your audience, not him.

3. Responsibility – “He’s the one who can’t be bothered to care for a sick child.”
   Because apparently the “parenting time” is a one‑way ticket to the good life.

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The “Let’s Get This Straight, We’re All Adults” Perspective (Because Who’s the Real Adult Here?)​

1. Parenting Time – “His time is his parenting time.”
   That’s true, but it doesn’t mean he can’t take the kid when she’s sick.

2. Concert vs. Child – “Don’t you think the kid is more important than a concert?”
   You’re right. The kid is more important than the 20‑minute encore.

3. Communication – “Make it a condition in your custody agreement to discuss everything in writing.”
   That’s good, but it doesn’t fix the fact that the kid is still sick.

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TL;DR​

You’re the mom, you’re a dad’s “selfish bitch,” and you’re about to rock out to Papa Roach while your daughter coughs up a storm. The dad’s got his own “not caring about a mild cold” attitude, the kids’ schedule is a relay, and the only thing you’re missing is a good headphone. Bottom line: AITA? Probably, unless you can convince the universe that a 10‑year‑old with a “slight fever” is exactly the same as a 30‑year‑old with a “slight cough.”

Disclaimer: This article does not constitute parenting advice. The real recommendation? Call the doctor, stay home, and let your daughter know you’re still the best mom—maybe with a surprise pizza delivery.

Edit: I sent this to my son and dil.

My son and dil ( Emily) are staying in our home probably for the next month due to water damage in there home. The company is fixing the damage but the flooring was damaged so it’s not very livable right now.

They have only been here less than a week and I am having an issue. I work nights I come back home around 6:30 am and then go to bed. My husband is usually up so I make him a coffee/breakfast before I turn in.

Just something like to do, more quality time before he heads to work. I asked my son and Emily if they would also like coffee or breakfast before they go to work.

They said no to food but yes to coffee. That was easy and I just made two extra cups. I asked them to tell me if they want me to change how to make their coffee. I thought they would just tell me, use this cream or if they had a preference on blend.

Emily texted me last night and said she left instructions for the coffee.

This morning I came home to very detail instructions how to make a complex coffee. It was like a Starbucks drink, she wanted foamed milk on top, different syrups, a specific coffee bean (ground fresh…) and a different brewing method ( we have a drip coffee machine) most of the stuff was one the counter.

I decided I wasn’t doing that and just made the normal coffee. Emily wasn’t happy and we got into a argument before she went to work

I basically told her I am not a Starbucks barrista and I am not going all that. She told me I shouldn’t have offered in the first place if I wouldn’t make the coffee to her liking. We left on a sour note.

I have been getting texts from my son about not being hospitable so I am having trouble sleeping at the moment

Should I just make the coffee

It’s a small office with a big problem. Every day, for the first 30 minutes, someone has to stand at the front desk and greet the world (and the occasional nosy client). The rule? “Everyone rotates—one week each.”

My manager, however, decided that my friendly face should be the office’s “welcome mat.” He keeps skipping the rotation schedule and assigning me to the desk three or four times a week. When I asked why, he replied, “You have a friendly face—make visitors feel comfortable.” Sounds like a glad compliment, right? Except it means I’m always behind on my actual work while the rest of the team gets a head start.

Last week, I politely told him I’d only do the front‑desk shift if the schedule was fair. He looked annoyed and said, “You’re making a big deal out of something small.” Now, my coworkers (who apparently never have to take extra shifts) are calling me dramatic, even though they haven’t been asked to cover the extra work themselves.

I’m not saying I hate being helpful, but I’m not a walking “human receptionist” because I look approachable. Am I the asshole for refusing to keep taking on the extra greeting shifts?

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I’ve been the unofficial superhero of my neighbor’s house for years. The lady across the hall has two little monsters (age 2 and 6) and a dog that thinks it’s a second child. I juggle school drop‑offs, pick‑ups, dinner prep, and occasional “just in case” babysitting, all while getting paid a fraction of the market rate because I’m kind of the best at it.

Enter the plot twist: the 6‑year‑old is on a school break and I’ve got a week off, so I’m the natural choice to keep him entertained. My dentist appointment is scheduled for the same day, so I hand the boy over to my 18‑year‑old sister for a two‑hour “quick check” of her babysitting skills.

I left a cheat sheet:

• Read for 15 minutes (any book will do)
• 30 minutes of screen time (no, the TV is not counted)
• Snack options: peanut‑butter sandwich, dino nuggets (instructions included), Kraft mac & cheese, plus a fruit and a veggie
• Park trip with the dog for a chocolate bar
• Craft kits on standby

It should have been a walk‑in‑the‑park‑and‑eat‑a‑sandwich kind of job. I even left a note about the dog’s schedule, the kid’s food preferences, and a “take the dog to the park for a chocolate bar” reminder.

Fast forward: I return to find the boy midway through a movie, my sister looking like she’s just been handed the manual to the entire universe, and a barrage of texts that read like a toddler’s version of “Help me, I have no idea what to do.”

“What’s the reading assignment? I can’t find a book.”
“Is the TV allowed?”
“Do I need to take the dog to the park?”

I tried to keep my cool: “Any book will do, you’re overthinking it. It’s all in the instructions.” But the next morning, my sister’s tears were flowing faster than the dog’s bark, and I’m left wondering if I just handed her a Rubik’s Cube.

The neighbor is furious. She’s got bills to pay, and I’m the only babysitter she can trust. Now I’m the one being accused of being a terrible parent. Did I go too far?

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Ever find yourself staring at the fridge, thinking, “If I could just keep buying this one thing forever, life would be great,” and then realizing you’re not a superhero? Well, imagine if you suddenly did! In today’s mind‑bending, pantry‑popping Q&A, we’re exploring the wildest “lifetime supply” scenarios straight from Reddit’s endless imagination.

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The Brain‑Tickle of a Lifetime Supply​

The premise is simple: the last purchase you ever made suddenly becomes an eternal treasure trove. Think of the possibilities—unending snack time, perpetual seasoning, or perhaps a never‑ending collection of plastic starships. The comments below capture a few of the most hilariously practical (or not-so-practical) choices people made.

I worked for a very wealthy property developer about 20 years ago. He was a self‑made billionaire, a hard‑bastard with a decent heart, and he ran his empire from a 15,000‑sq‑ft mansion that looked like it had a secret underground bunker.

The kid—his son, 16 at the time—was a total slacker. School was a drag, he had a “soft” attitude, and he didn’t seem to care about anything except video games. The dad, who had dropped out of school at 14 and was the eldest of nine, decided to give his son a taste of the real world.

He called me directly (a rare move for a guy who usually had a management team) and asked if I’d take the kid for a few weeks of work experience. The catch? Keep his identity under wraps. I agreed to pay him €80 per day—enough to buy a gaming rig in his room.

Every morning I picked the kid up at 6:30 a.m. and dropped him off at the gates of his mansion at 6 p.m. He did heavy lifting, got blisters on his hands, and drifted to sleep in my van on the way home. On his last day, his dad was there to chat in the van. He explained that his son’s €800 over two weeks was a small taste compared to the life he’d had to fight for.

The kid was respectful, did what he was told without complaint, and had no ego. The dad was simply trying to curb laziness. Fast forward—now the kid runs the family business with his dad in semi‑retirement, treating everyone with respect and chatting about sports with the crew on site.

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Ever wonder what happens when you hire a temp who’s secretly a productivity wizard? Meet Emily, the 11‑day miracle who turned our audit nightmare into a streamlined masterpiece and left us with a new office meme: “Emily speed.”

Original Post
We hired a temp for three weeks during a big audit crunch. Her name was Emily. Quiet, polite, seemed new to corporate life.

Day one: she finished the onboarding packet before HR finished explaining it.
Day two: she sent me the cleanest spreadsheet I’ve ever seen.
Day three: she reorganized our shared drive because it was inefficient.

Then she built an automated tracker that cut our audit backlog by 40%.
Our director walked in like she’d discovered fire: “Let’s all try to follow Emily’s process moving forward.”
Bruh… she was here for 11 business days and became the new standard.

She caught an error in the auditor’s report, handled it with perfect professionalism, and left at the end of her contract saying, “This was fun.”
We still say “Emily speed” when someone finishes a task fast.

A little over a hundred grand in your pocket and a burning question in your mind?
This Reddit poster thought the same and posted:

I’ve got $100k on hand.

I’m thinking of putting $20k in each daughter’s college fund, building a massive two‑story garage/shed on my property, and going on a nice vacation with the family.

So, what would you do with that? The internet has some hilarious takes.

Ever find yourself scrolling through Reddit, staring at people bragging about their new job, their latest vacation, or that fancy apartment with a view of the ocean? You’re not alone. We all have that internal checklist: money, health, relationships, fame. And when someone meets all those, we automatically declare them the epitome of “being good at life.”

But what if the real gold standard isn’t a bank balance or a selfie with a flamingo? What if the real indicator is something quieter—something that won’t be noticed in a group photo or a TikTok dance? Let’s dive into the Reddit thread that turned a philosophical question into a comedy goldmine and discover that the truest sign of living is… serenity.

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The Original Question​

“What’s the clearest sign that someone is genuinely doing well in life?”

No one could resist answering. Comments rolled in faster than a cat video on a Sunday morning, each one offering a nugget of wisdom—or a meme‑ready punchline.

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The Verdicts (and the Laughs)​

“For me, it’s when someone isn’t performing anymore.”
They’re not trying to impress you, not chasing validation, not flexing anything. They’re just… steady. Present. Comfortable in their own skin.

“Money goes up, health goes up, relationships get deeper and last longer, they got offered opportunities.”
Classic check‑list. The “well‑being” version of a corporate bonus.

“Honestly, the clearest sign someone is doing well is when their life finally feels quiet.”
Not boring, just peaceful. They’re not rushing, not panicking, not checking their phone every two minutes. They’ve got a calm energy that’s harder to fake than a latte art heart.

“For a lot of people, ‘doing well’ isn’t money or holidays. It’s when they can wake up without dread in their chest.”
The day‑to‑day version of a mental health spa.

“You also notice they start enjoying small things again.”
A walk, a clean room, cooking something simple, seeing friends without feeling drained. When someone is genuinely doing well, you can feel the softness in the way they talk. There’s no desperation in them anymore. They’re present. They’re actually living, not just surviving.

“Their adult kids speak highly of them.”
A subtle, but oh‑so‑heavy, validation from the next generation.

“Their adult kids speak to them.”
The difference between talking and really listening.

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The “Quiet” Life Explained​

You might wonder: “What does that quiet life look like?” Picture this:

Indicator	Reality	Reddit Reality Check
No frantic scrolling	They check their phone only for emergencies	“I only glance at my phone to see if the pizza is delivered.”
Consistent routines	They hit the gym, read a book, and actually sleep	“My bedtime is 10 pm. My alarm is 6:30 am.”
Financial peace	They can afford a rainy day fund without guilt	“If I lose my job, I won’t panic; I have a cushion.”
Quality relationships	Friends come without expectations	“We hang out because we like each other, not because we need each other.”
Enjoyment of simplicity	They’re happy with a cup of coffee and a good movie	“I’m content with a single snack and a 2‑hour film.”

The point? When life stops feeling like a sprint and starts feeling like a leisurely stroll, you know you’re done for the day.

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TL;DR​

When someone stops flexing, starts breathing, and can say, “I’m good,” that’s the real trophy.

“Their adult kids speak highly of them.”

“Their adult kids speak to them.”

If you’re still on the treadmill of “more money, more status, more validation,” maybe it’s time to re‑check your mileage. Or just hit pause and enjoy the quiet.

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Ever wonder which pastime will turn your quiet weekend into a circus of “I‑am‑the‑law”? Reddit says Speedboats and Reselling are top contenders. Below is the raw, uncensored, and hilariously tragic testimony from the frontlines of hobby‑induced chaos.

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