I swear, every time I visit my sister’s house, something new shocks me. But nothing—nothing—prepared me for this.
So I walk in last weekend, expecting the usual chaos: toys scattered everywhere, the dog barking at a leaf outside, my sister yelling about someone leaving juice boxes under the couch. Normal stuff. But then I see him—my 14-year-old nephew, Brennan—chillin’ in a damn baby stroller. Like, knees up, arms relaxed, smug little smile on his face, just vibing like it’s totally normal.
I blinked. Thought maybe it was a prank. Or some TikTok thing I’m too old to get.
But no. My sister walks in behind me, all casual, holding a juice pouch like it’s the most regular Tuesday ever.
“Brennan wanted to feel comfortable today,” she said, like she was talking about choosing sweatpants instead of jeans.
I waited for the punchline, but it never came. I blinked again, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Brennan, a 14-year-old boy, who should be walking around with his friends, playing video games, or, I don’t know, doing normal teen things, was chilling in a baby stroller. I glanced at my sister, trying to figure out if she was in on some big joke, but she didn’t even flinch.
“Why is he in that stroller?” I finally asked, trying to keep my voice steady, even though my mind was screaming at me.
“Oh, you know… he just likes it,” my sister shrugged, nonchalantly taking a sip of her juice pouch. “It’s comfortable for him, and I think it helps with his anxiety. It calms him down.”
I stood there for a moment, completely stunned. “Anxiety?” I repeated, my voice rising with disbelief. “Brennan is 14. He’s perfectly capable of walking! He’s not a toddler anymore.”
My sister sighed, looking at me like I was the one who didn’t get it. “It’s not that simple, okay? He’s been through a lot. And honestly, he’s been through phases before. This one just happens to be the stroller phase. He’ll grow out of it, eventually.”
I wasn’t convinced. Sure, I could understand that kids go through weird phases, but this wasn’t just a phase anymore. Brennan had been refusing to do basic things that kids his age should be doing—things like going to school on his own, taking care of his homework, even having conversations with people outside the family. And now this? A stroller?
I wanted to say something, to protest, to tell her this was all going way too far, but my sister seemed so at ease with it all. I felt like I was the crazy one for even questioning it. I stood there, unsure of what to do or say next.
But then, Brennan looked up from his stroller, and with that smug little smile on his face, he said, “You should try it, Aunt Claire. It’s actually super comfy.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Was he serious? Was I supposed to try it? I was trying to wrap my head around the whole thing when my sister piped up again.
“I don’t know why you’re so concerned, Claire. He’s doing fine. He’s still getting straight A’s in school, and he’s not causing any trouble. So what if he likes to chill in a stroller sometimes? He’s just finding his own way to cope with things.”
Finding his own way to cope with things?
I wanted to scream. Brennan wasn’t coping; he was avoiding life. He was avoiding the responsibilities and challenges that come with growing up. And, worse, his parents—my sister and her husband—were just enabling it. They were letting him slide through life without teaching him any real lessons about growing up, responsibility, or facing challenges head-on.
As I spent more time with them, it became clear that this wasn’t just a one-time thing. Brennan had no interest in doing anything that required effort. He wasn’t interested in sports or hanging out with friends. He spent hours on his phone, watching videos or playing games. His parents didn’t push him to do anything, didn’t require him to participate in anything, and didn’t make him deal with the consequences of his actions.
One day, I overheard my sister and her husband talking about it while I was helping in the kitchen.
“He’s just so sensitive,” my sister was saying. “And I don’t want to push him too hard. I know he’ll find his way when he’s ready.”
“But Claire said he’s not learning how to deal with life,” my brother-in-law replied, his voice a little more concerned. “Don’t you think we’re babying him a bit too much? He’s not learning basic life skills, and I’m worried about what will happen when he has to face something difficult.”
My heart skipped a beat at hearing him admit it out loud. Finally, someone was noticing. But my sister quickly shut it down.
“He’ll figure it out,” she said, sounding more sure of herself than ever. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? They were always just waiting for things to magically work themselves out, never realizing that they were actually making it worse by not stepping in when they needed to.
I couldn’t stay silent anymore. That night, after dinner, I pulled my sister aside.
“Listen, I get that you love Brennan, but this isn’t healthy. You’re not doing him any favors by letting him stay in that bubble where he doesn’t have to face anything challenging. He’s not learning how to be an adult.”
My sister looked at me, and for the first time in a long time, she seemed to hesitate. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s just… hard, Claire. I don’t want to make him feel worse, you know?”
“I know, but you have to be the one to set boundaries. He’s not going to get better on his own. He’s not going to just magically ‘grow up’ if you don’t teach him how. You’re enabling him to stay in this safe little world, and he’s not going to be ready for the real world when it hits him.”
She stared at me for a long time, her eyes softening. “I don’t want him to hate me.”
“I know. But sometimes, being the tough parent is the best thing you can do for him. You have to teach him that he has to face the world, that he has to work for what he wants, and that it’s okay to fail sometimes. He’ll respect you more in the long run.”
She sighed deeply, a look of understanding crossing her face. “You’re right. I know I’ve been too easy on him. I just… I don’t know how to make him change.”
“You don’t need to have all the answers right now. But you have to start somewhere.”
The next few weeks were tough. My sister and her husband started setting firmer boundaries with Brennan, encouraging him to get involved in activities outside the house, even if it meant dragging him out of his comfort zone. There were tears, there were fights, but slowly, Brennan started to adapt. He still loved his video games, but he began to take responsibility for his schoolwork. He started to spend time with friends, and I noticed the shift. His growth was slow, but it was there.
And then came the twist. One evening, as I was visiting, Brennan looked at me, his face serious for once.
“Aunt Claire,” he said, “I’m sorry I made you think I’m lazy. I know I wasn’t acting like a normal kid. I think I’ve been scared of growing up, you know? It’s a lot of pressure, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”
I felt a lump in my throat. “It’s okay, Brennan. You don’t have to figure everything out overnight. But it’s important to face those fears, even when it feels overwhelming. You’ve got this.”
And in that moment, I realized something that had been missing before—Brennan did need to grow up, but it was going to take time. And he wasn’t alone in it. He had a family, a support system, and now, a chance to learn how to do things for himself.
The lesson here? Sometimes, the best thing we can do for those we love is to give them a push—not to make their life harder, but to help them build the strength they need to navigate it on their own. Life won’t always be easy, and it’s okay to struggle. But it’s the challenges that teach us the most.
So, if you have someone in your life who’s struggling, maybe it’s time to give them a little nudge. Not because you don’t believe in them, but because you do.
