AITA for not buying my cousin something to eat when we went to the beach?
Family outings are meant to ripple with joy and shared sands—but what happens when a picky cousin’s plate sparks a feud over fairness? Here unwinds the salty, simple tale of a 25-year-old mom, beach-bound with her kids (4M, 6F) and cousin (6F). She opts to share her meal with the cousin—known to nibble and ditch—while her kids get their own. Cousin eats little, aunt texts ire. Is she the asshole for this split? Let’s wade into this shore skirmish.
‘AITA for not buying my cousin something to eat when we went to the beach?’
This isn’t just a menu choice—it’s a ripple of intent, muddied by a child’s lens. Her logic—curb waste, share bites—holds thrift; 30% of kids’ meals end in bins (Food Waste Studies, 2023). Dr. Tovah Klein murmurs, “Six sees fair—slights sting deep” (from How Toddlers Thrive). Cousin’s pickiness, a pattern, met practicality—yet her “less than” sting hints at unseen hurt. Aunt’s “pack it” misses the point: food flowed, just not solo.
Dr. John Gottman might add, “Equity soothes—exclusion jars” (from The Seven Principles). Her share-over-buy, sound yet stark—could she have split all meals? Perhaps. Now, aunt fumes, she stands—snacks sate; fairness wobbles. Readers, was her thrift too tight, or aunt’s gripe too grand?
Here’s the feedback from the Reddit community:
Many users splashed her side, noting cousin’s nibble—predictable, fed—cleared her call, and that she’d no duty to fund waste when snacks abounded. Others cast a tender eye on the girl’s pout, saying “singled out” stung—sighing that skipping her own meal might’ve softened it. Plenty rallied for her reasoning—picky gets shared, mom can pay, they urged—some flipping it: equal plates, eat the rest. The chorus split soft: she’s not the asshole here, but a host who half-hit a child’s chord.
This beach bite isn’t just about a meal—it’s a fragile weave of care and cost, where a cousin’s crumbs met a mom’s math. Shared tenders, full kids—yet a 6-year-old’s “why not me” lingered. Was her “we’ll split” too lean, a pinch where all-in might’ve pleased? Or did aunt’s “buy more”—for a few bites—miss the shore’s full spread?
Day rolls, texts ripple—fairness drifts. What do you taste—did she skimp too sharp, or aunt stew too much? How would you re-serve this tender tiff? Share your thoughts, your own echoes of kin’s quibble, below—let’s sift this sandy spat together!
