Kids often mirror the personalities of their parents. Unfortunately, that means entitled parents lead to entitled kids.
Let's take a look at some stories of people that have crossed paths with entitled kids.
All posts have been edited for clarity.
“I Am the Guest I Can Do What I Like”
“My youngest daughter’s best friend was rather bossy and full of herself. They would have play dates most weeks taking turns whose house they would play at.
The rule at the friend’s house was that the guest got to choose what to play. This worked well as my daughter didn’t get bossed about and had a good time.
Unfortunately, this meant that when the friend was with us she was a nightmare. She would help herself to anything and everything. Unknown to me, on one occasion she decided that she would do some glass painting from a kit. This involved using special black outline paint to draw a design before adding color. The child got the outline paint on the dining table, the floor in the dining room and then proceeded to walk it onto the sitting room carpet.
As soon as I saw the mess, I told her to stop while I cleaned up.
She looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘I am the guest so I can do what I like.’
I explained she couldn’t help herself to things and cause so much damage.
She laughed and told me it wasn’t her problem.
Needless to say, her visits to us were considerably reduced and the friendship faded completely when they transferred to separate schools.”
“It was autumn, my father was going for a business meeting at one of his friend’s houses. Me being me decided to go with him because I was bored at home and he told me that his friend had two lovely daughters I could play with.
I was really excited to go and when we got there, the house was nothing short of a mansion. It was beautiful, inside and out, and was way bigger than my house.
I was told to go play in the garden with the two girls, roughly my own age and we started talking and climbing the jungle gym.
When I played outside, I didn’t mind getting a little dirt under my nails. Especially at that age where I was more active and not suffering from chronic back pain and permanently sleep-deprived.
Anyhow, it was a wooden jungle gym and I was climbing up faster than them and didn’t notice that my hand accidentally brushed a bird’s dry poop. It wasn’t even a big poop, it was tiny. The kind of poop a sparrow would make.
They immediately drew back and did not want to associate with me.
They said I was dirty and kept giving me dirty looks as if I did something wrong.
I washed my hands after, but they still acted differently. I felt hurt and realized that maybe it didn’t have to do with that at all but more with my background and what I wore.
It was rude and a very hurtful thing to do and was one of the very first things I had learned about the ways of this world.”
Box of Chocolates
“My family was invited over lunch at my cousin’s place. We were family, there were fewer formalities and more enthusiasm among us. Soon other family members also joined us. I was probably in puberty age and tried hard to mingle with them.
I thought it would be easy to get out of my comfort zone if the kids liked me. So I took some chocolates out of the box I bought and offered them to the sweet little girl that was close to me.
The little girl tried to get away from me and said, ‘You don’t look good, I don’t want anything from you.’
I was surprised and suddenly my smile vanished. The love I was trying to share with her was terribly shaken at that moment.
Her mother interrupted, ‘Take the chocolates from her, she will feel bad.’
But that little kid already broke my heart. I already felt bad.
She refused to take the chocolates from me.
That moment of public embarrassment is still engraved in my heart and mind. I might not be good-looking but hearing it from a kid who was supposed to speak the innocent truth is what ripped my self-esteem and confidence that day.
I might have been ignorant and forgotten many such uncomfortable events from my life but that little critique had stayed with me until now.”
“A number of years ago, we had a small farmette in Pennsylvania near Amish country. Our home was not an unusual home for the area made of thick stone walls, perhaps two feet thick. I don’t know when it had been built but I’d guess in the 1800s. It had a huge walk-in fireplace that I’m sure was used for cooking at one time.
All this to say that we heated with coal stoves in our downstairs and so had open heating vents in the upstairs floors to heat the upstairs. I had been used to this arrangement in my grandparents’ home in NE Pennsylvania.
We had visitors with two young children, perhaps five and three at the time. The three-year-old took it upon himself to explore our upstairs which at the time had only the original stairs with no railing. He discovered the floor vents and that he could see downstairs and talk to us. Mind you, his parents were totally non-pulsed about this behavior.
He then proceeded to spit down through the vents at us, again with no admonishment from his parents. My husband and I were appalled. Not just once, but more than once. This is the most disgusting behavior by guests in our home, although I blamed the parents, not the child. Needless to say, they were not invited back.”
“In South Tamilnadu, we had the tradition of buying sweets and snacks while visiting guests. The hosts would share them along with the guests.
My cousin was very fond of sweets and snacks.
When we visited them, my dad bought sweets, snacks, and chocolates for her. My uncle bought halwa for us all.
At once my aunt plated them and served them to us.
My cousin grabbed the plate and said, ‘My dad bought halwa only for me, not for you all. Don’t touch them,’ in a harsh tone and ran away with the plate.
She had the entire plate full of halwa without sharing.
We ignored her. My aunt gave us the sweets and snacks bought by my dad.
She started to cry out loud and roll on the floor and said, ‘They bought these all for us. If they all finish up eating everything, I don’t have anything to eat. Don’t give them anything else or I will stab you with a knife.’
Finally, we left their home with an empty stomach.
Since she was a single child of my uncle, she never shared anything with others. Apparently, they didn’t teach her to share food with people.”
“There was a boy in my son’s class who was quite disruptive. My son and all his friends would complain about him constantly.
He just seemed boisterous to me, and I worried he was like that because he was lonely and wanted friends so I invited him to have dinner with us one day after school. The boys were about seven years old at the time.
He complained the chicken I served was dry. He insisted the baked beans were off-brand and demanded I show him the empty can to prove I was telling the truth that they were not. He then proclaimed that the food was disgusting and he wasn’t going to eat it so I needed to make him something else right there and then.
I refused, said that was the dinner tonight, and offered fruit, cheese, and crackers instead so he would not be hungry at the very least.
He swore constantly.
I asked him not to swear and explained that we did not swear in my household.
He then spat at me and called me a swear word.
After dinner, he went around the house, picked up ornaments, and asked if he could have them.
I said no.
After I said no, he went to my son’s room and snapped the wooden swords he had in half, and tried to trash a few other toys.
I asked him why he did that and he replied that my son had too many toys.
By then, I lost my patience and took him home. I ended the playdate an hour early.
The relief on my son’s face broke my heart a little.
At that point, I realized I should have listened to my son more and it was unfair to force the friendship. I never invited him again.”
“Get Out of My Home”
“Once I visited my husband’s colleague’s house which was in our neighborhood. I was not very interested in paying a visit but my husband persisted that I meet his colleague’s wife and indulge in a chit-chat. They were a small family with three members.
I went to their flat; the mother greeted me and asked me to have a seat in their living room. We asked about the general well-being of each other. After ten minutes, the mother got up and went to the kitchen to fetch me some drinks or water.
Their three-year-old old daughter, who had been observing me very carefully for a while, came near me and sternly said, ‘Get out of my home.’
I was taken aback because no child in my life has ever spoken to me so rudely.
I tried to cheer up the moment and said, ‘What’s the problem? Don’t you remember, we have met before?’
My words couldn’t comfort her and she shouted again, ‘Get out.’
I didn’t say any word and thought it better and safer to stay mute.
The girl turned furious when she realized I wasn’t leaving the house. Since she couldn’t push me out of her house, she picked up her sandals, took an aim at me, and flung the footwear. Thankfully, she missed her shot.
All this took place in such a short time that I couldn’t believe what happened.
Meanwhile, the mother overheard some of these harsh words uttered by her daughter and chided her in a mild tone, ‘Don’t say this. She is our guest. You shouldn’t say this.’
The mother came back to the living room, took the daughter in her lap, and explained to me, ‘She gets envious if I talk for too long with someone else. She spends all day with me. So, she cannot stand the fact that I am paying my attention to someone else.’
I found it very strange and wondered how my mother would have treated me had I done the same to a guest in my home.
After fifteen minutes, I hurriedly left their home. I never dared to step into their place again.”
“From the minute I met this eleven-year-old I knew something was up.
Over time, my sister kept telling me these awful things that the girl had done to her, like create fake accounts on social media with my sister’s name and pictures on them. She would follow my sister’s friends and then direct message them to say that she hated them and never wanted to see them again. This was only the start.
The girl also called one of my sister’s friends weird because she hung out with my sister too much.
My sister eventually invited the girl over to stay the night at my house, where they completely destroyed our basement, throwing craft supplies all over the ground. When I asked my sister what happened, she told me the girl made her do it. I didn’t know how much of it was true, because my sister was also only eleven years old and she didn’t always tell the truth.
The girl had also called my sister all kinds of swear words. She told my sister that my dad was creepy because his skin was purple.
My dad had a congenital heart defect where he couldn’t get enough oxygen to every part of his body, which made his skin look slightly purple.
I don’t understand how an eleven-year-old could be that mean.
The final thing that had happened was that the girl had told another student in her class some very private information relating to something that had happened to my little sister. That was the final straw. My sister blocked her on every social media website she had been following her on.
My parents had to do some serious work with my sister so she could enter the next school year strong, without having to worry about what the girl would do to her next.”
“On another grueling hot day in Texas, I was innocently biking around my neighborhood when I came up to a yellow house with two little twin girls playing around in the yard.
I said, ‘Hi,’ and waved as I rode by.
One of the girls glared at me, turned to her sister, and asked, ‘Do you know her?’
Her sister looked confused and responded, ‘Nope, no idea.’
The girl continued, ‘She’s weird. She doesn’t even know us.’
Okay then, I thought and shrugged it off. Kids these days.
I completed another round around the neighborhood and ignored them the second time.
But as I was riding around my third time, I saw them with a couple of boys that looked around their age. They were playing around with a football.
I smiled politely as I rode closer.
They all stopped what they were doing.
Then when I was about three yards from them one of the little girls yelled, ‘Get her!’
I mumbled, ‘Wait, what,’ in slight confusion and panic as they started stampeding towards me.
I gasped and picked up the pace. I was just past them.
One of them shouted, ‘Go! Throw it!’
My head darted back and forth as I tried to keep up with the road and what they were doing. Adrenaline rushed through me and I felt my heart beating a thousand miles an hour.
Then before I could stop, a boy ran up parallel to me and flung something in the air.
I yelled, ‘Ow,’ as a leather football collided straight at my temple.
I braked with my feet and held my head in pain as they stared wide-eyed. I glared at their football on the floor and then at them. I was so angry I wanted to throw my bike at them, or throw their stupid football in the nearby pond. But I just regained my composure and biked out of there, trying not to cry.
They attempt stupid things like that every time I ride by. I should have shredded that stupid football.”
Fetch in the Park
“A few years ago, I was strolling around the park with my grandma. Along came a beautiful black Labrador. He was well trained and ran back whenever his owner called him. He was really well behaved, too. He licked my hand and even shook it. The owner let me play with him for a while with a tennis ball.
Anyway, this guy and his son were standing at the end of the park’s main field. I threw the ball, and as the dog ran by, the little kid spat at him.
My grandma gasped and the owner looked furious.
She stood up and shouted at the father, who pretended not to notice, though I’m sure he did, only his two remaining brain cells couldn’t muster up the energy to care.
At that point, the dog darted back around the field and then came back to me, but all I could see was red and before I know it I had hurled the ball straight at the useless father and his son. It was a straight, clean pitch.
Sure enough, the dog turned around and charged for the ball immediately.
The kid came running in for another spit. Even from the distance, I could see the horrible leer on his face. I can’t believe that a kid only eight or nine years old would be so eager to disrespect an animal, and for a moment, I regretted throwing the ball in his direction.
But then the dog jumped up just in time to knock the mess out of him. He full-on snowplowed the kid.
His shoe flew off and the dog landed on top of him while he screamed.
The dad started shouting threats at the dog but before he could run over he had leaped and bounded back to me with the ball in his mouth.
When the dad helped his son up, the kid cried and had grass stains down his t-shirt.
There was a shouted exchange between the owner and dad, with the kid even getting involved.
The kid started screaming swear words at the top of his lungs but otherwise kept sobbing like the dog ripped his arm off.
After that, my grandma and I had an excellent walk.”
“I had a neighbor that owned a backyard opposite to mine with only a wall separating between each other. His wife had the habit of leaving onions and garlic on the balcony to dry. Every time I would go out for some fresh air, their three kids would hide on the upper balcony, then start throwing onions my way.
I would just ignore them.
It seemed like a harmless act but onions can actually hurt because they are quite solid. The only reason I hadn’t made a big deal out of it was they were bad at throwing and would often miss me.
One day, I was watering the garden with a hose, when I suddenly saw a couple of onions flying my way, again.
I remained quiet and pretended I didn’t see anything.
A couple of moments later, I saw all three kids; two boys, around nine years old, and one girl, around twelve. They were certainly old enough to know it wasn’t okay.
They looked at me, laughed, and I got the message.
I looked at them and smiled.
They smiled back.
It was a moment of pure innocence exchanged between us, before I used my fingers to press on the front part of the hose to increase the water pressure, and sprinkled all three of them until they were all soaking wet.
They ran crying to their mother, who came to me with a red face.
She demanded, ‘Why did you sprinkle my kids??’
I looked at her with puppy eyes and responded, ‘Ma’am, I’m sorry, as you can see, the Pomegranate tree is high, and your kids were hiding behind the wall, I didn’t see them.’
Then I grabbed a couple of onions, went her way, and said, ‘I’m sorry, I believe those are yours? I’m not sure how they moved from your balcony to my garden.'”
“It was at my brother’s ninth birthday party where we decided to invite one of his friends. His parents knew he behaved this way but didn’t really do much to change his manners.
Anyway, we had invited him over a few times before. He found it amusing to go in our parents’ room and my room and break things whenever he wanted. It wasn’t uncommon for our parents to send him home early.
For some reason, we had invited him to my brother’s ninth birthday party. While all the kids were playing in our backyard and I was on a swing, he stood about eight feet above me with a tennis racket in his hand, threatening to drop it on my head and other kids’ heads. When adults tried to prevent him from doing it, he would either ignore them or talk back and whine to them, but eventually, they let it go.
There was also a ‘scientist’ hired to show a science experiment, and while everyone was standing around watching, he was there, kicking the legs of the table, attempting to topple the whole experiment. It got so bad to the point where my parents had to put him in time-out for the rest of the party, but I guess none of them wanted to send him home.
I never personally talked to him much, but I could tell he made it his goal to ruin others’ experiences or hurt them in some way. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve seen him, and of course, I’m curious to know how he is now.”
“My son comes under the autism spectrum. He takes time to comprehend things and is very hyper by nature. That is because his brain’s wiring forces him to keep moving and he can’t help it. Other kids his age found him mad.
I was expecting my second baby and a friend of mine had some work so she dropped her son, who was my son’s age, at my place for a few hours.
The lad tried to show how much better he was compared to my son though I never bothered to compare. He was constantly taunting me about how crazy my son was, and how ill-mannered he was.
At first, I tried to reason with him and said he was different but not mad. However at the end of the day, maybe understanding my son was beyond his capacity.
Now after heavy snacks, he came to me and asked, ‘What will you do if your second child becomes like him?’
I was so shocked. How can an eight-year-old speak to me like this?
I simply told him, ‘I’ll love the second one as much as I love my son.’
It really disturbed me and his mother was a self-absorbed woman so there was no point in telling her anything.
I really hope the lad learned the difference and started respecting other kids instead of bullying them.”
“From the time he was born eight years ago, I knew my nephew was going to be a piece of work by how my sister was raising him. She never made him do anything if he didn’t want to. She would make dinner for the rest of the family and specifically make him Nutella sandwiches because he would ‘refuse’ to eat anything else.
If my daughter had something he wanted, he would start screaming and my sister would grab the item off my daughter to give it to him. She almost lost a hand when she did that in front of me one day.
One day, I pulled up to her house to pick up some items. She was outside doing yard work so I told her I would run in and grab it.
I went inside to find my nephew playing his video game. I went to give him a hug and he said, ‘Get out of my house.’
I stood there for a second thinking there is no way this kid just said that. So I asked him to repeat it.
Yep, that’s what he said.
I snatched his controller, turned his game off, and put him in the corner.
My sister came in two seconds later to him crying and I told her what just transpired.
She did nothing and let him get back to his game.
He has unfortunately become so bad they started taking him to a psychologist where they are trying to label him with Aspergers to mask the fact they pretty much failed him as parents.”