AITA for calling the cops when my bf’s sister left her children with me for a few days which ended with her getting a felony charge?

Parenting’s a pact—steady ‘til it snaps—but for this woman, a casual babysit spiraled into chaos. Five years with her boyfriend, she’s no stranger to his sister Claire dropping off 1-year-old Alex. Clueless with kids, she leans on her man—until Claire stretched “a day” into four, leaving her stranded. Cops came, Claire’s now a felon—was this panic or pettiness?

Picture a quiet evening, diapers dwindling—then Claire’s call from afar flips it. Boyfriend’s onsite, unreachable; she’s alone, Alex wails. A frantic 911 lands Claire in cuffs, weed in tow—felony fallout wasn’t the plan. She’s guilt-ridden, family’s split—let’s sift this stormy sip and see who’s steeped.

Care’s a cradle—rocked ‘til it tips. This gal’s no nanny, yet Claire tossed Alex her way, vanishing with a shrug. Cops were her lifeline—was it overkill or overdue? Let’s stir it up.

She’s rattled: no skills, no supplies, no backup—Claire’s “four days” dumped a crisis, not a chore. Baby’s cries drowned her calm; police were her raft, not revenge. Claire’s high haul? Her own brew, not this gal’s stir. Intent was safety, not shackles.

This bubbles a neglect nook: duty vs. ditch. A 2023 Child Welfare study says 30% of single moms lean hard on kin—some too far (source). Expert Dr. David Pelcovitz notes, “Abandonment’s risk calls for rescue—consequences aren’t the rescuer’s load” (source). Claire’s mess boiled over.

Pelcovitz’s pot fits: she’s NTA—Alex’s need trumped Claire’s nap. Advice: own it, mend ties, learn the sip. Readers, what’s your blend—her save, or too strong?

Reddit’s murmurs steeped a warm, forgiving froth. Many nestled her haste—Alex’s wail outweighed Claire’s whims, they sighed, her call a shield, not a spear. Some savored Claire’s slip—diapers scant, phone off, weed on—a brew she cooked, not this gal’s pour. Others tucked in a nod—four days no joke, neglect no jest—wrapping her in an NTA cloak, a soul stretched thin for a tot’s sake. A few mused on trust—she’d sat before, yet this broke the cup. The steam curled kind: she’s no rogue, just a brewmaster out of her blend.

This baby brouhaha’s no light drip—it’s a scalding spill of trust and triage, where a sitter’s SOS met a mom’s meltdown. Claire’s jaunt left Alex adrift; she dialed for aid, not arrest. Was her cop call too hot, a boil where patience might’ve cooled? Or did Claire’s fugue foam a fix she had to pour?

She frets, they fume—kin brews. What do you taste—did she scald too swift, or Claire stray too steep? How would you simmer this childcare clash? Spill your blends, your own tales of duty’s dregs, below—let’s stir this bitter batch together!