I’m 75, my husband 79; we just celebrated our 50th anniversary. For 15+ years, we’ve bankrolled our son and DIL: down payments, cars, childcare, debt payoffs. No thanks, just entitlement—we felt like ATMs.
At our party, they arrived with a huge gift box. Excited, we opened it publicly: inside, their old, worn clothes. Guests froze; I was mortified.
Later, I gently asked my son if we deserved better. He shrugged: “Mom, the present isn’t important, the attention is, isn’t it?”
Two months on, at his birthday, we handed an envelope. DIL’s eyes gleamed—expecting cash. Instead: our revised will, leaving everything to an animal shelter.
As we left, I echoed: “Dear, the present isn’t important, the attention is. Isn’t it?”
They’re furious; family split—some say we were used and justified, others call us harsh for not swallowing the insult.
AITA for disinheriting them after years of ingratitude capped by public humiliation?
