I refused to let my cousin's kids come to my Halloween party because they ruined last year's party.

I refused to let my cousin's kids come to my Halloween party because they ruined last year's party, and her reaction confirmed I made the right call.
Last October, I hosted what was supposed to be the ultimate Halloween bash at my newly renovated Victorian home. I spent three weeks meticulously decorating with hand carved pumpkins, atmospheric spooky lighting that cost a small fortune, and even created an elaborate haunted maze in my backyard complete with motion sensors and sound effects. The food was themed perfectly with eyeball punch, finger sandwiches, and a chocolate fountain that I splurged four hundred dollars on. I even hired a professional makeup artist to do special effects for guests who wanted extra flair. I invited friends, neighbors, and reluctantly, my cousin Melissa with her three children aged seven, nine, and eleven after she begged to come, promising they would behave impeccably.
That promise evaporated the moment they arrived in their store bought costumes. Within thirty minutes, the kids were running through my house screaming at full volume, knocking over my carefully arranged decorations. I watched in horror as they grabbed handfuls of candy meant for the party games and stuffed them into their pockets without even asking. The breaking point came when I found them in my study, which was clearly marked with a "No Entry" sign, throwing chocolate covered strawberries at my cream colored walls that I had just repainted last month. When I confronted Melissa, she shrugged dismissively and said, "Kids will be kids. You would understand if you had your own." I stood there speechless, watching chocolate drip down my walls while she scrolled through her phone. The party that I spent weeks planning and nearly one thousand dollars creating was effectively ruined, and I spent the next day scrubbing stains instead of enjoying my weekend.
This year, I decided to host another Halloween party, but with one significant change to the guest list. I invested in even better decorations, hired a bartender, and planned activities for adults to enjoy. When Melissa texted asking for details about "our annual Halloween tradition," I politely informed her that this would be an adults only event. She immediately called me, furious, demanding to know why her "angels" were excluded. I calmly explained that after last year's destruction, I was not comfortable having her children in my home again. She threatened to tell the entire family I was being cruel to children on Halloween and depriving them of their favorite holiday experience.
Instead of arguing or giving in to her manipulation, I created a detailed document with photographs of the chocolate stained walls, the broken decorations, and an itemized list of damages totaling over six hundred dollars that I had never asked her to reimburse out of family courtesy. I shared this document in our family group chat, explaining that while I love hosting gatherings, I need guests who respect my property. I also mentioned that I had organized a separate kid friendly event at the community center the weekend before, where her children would be welcome with proper supervision. I even offered to pay for their tickets.
The family response was overwhelmingly supportive of my decision. Several relatives even shared their own stories of Melissa's children's behavior at other gatherings, including a Christmas dinner where they had broken an heirloom ornament. My Halloween party went perfectly this year with zero damaged property, and I even received compliments on setting healthy boundaries. Sometimes the best revenge is simply enforcing reasonable rules and documenting everything. Melissa and her kids attended the community center event instead, where the staff was prepared for energetic children, and everyone had a much better time.

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