My packages kept disappearing, and my sweet neighbor Linda always seemed to “find” them. I tried to stay patient, but when my limited-edition Christmas ornament went missing, I’d had enough. So, I left her a holiday gift she’d never forget.

I moved to this neighborhood for peace, not package wars. After parting ways with my husband, my eight-year-old son Mike and I needed a fresh start. The new house was perfect—quiet, safe, and near a park.

Things were fine until I met Linda. She lived next door and greeted us with a tray of cookies. She was kind, chatty, and offered to watch over my house while I was out.

“You know, packages can go missing if they sit out too long,” she said one day. “I’m happy to grab them if I see anything on your porch.”

At first, everything seemed normal. But then my packages started disappearing. The first was an educational toy for Mike, and when I asked Linda, she returned it—opened.

“Oh, I thought it was mine!” she said, laughing. It felt strange, but I let it slide. Then it happened again. And again.

Each time, Linda would return the packages opened, claiming she thought they were hers. I tried to stay polite, but after the third time, I knew better. Linda wasn’t confused—she was stealing them.

First, the packages were small—an annoyance. But then the bigger, more expensive items started disappearing. A pair of boots I’d been saving for months vanished. Linda’s excuse? “Oh, I thought it was the jacket I ordered.”

But the last straw came before Christmas. I’d ordered a limited-edition ornament for my mom, and it was gone. Furious, I marched over to Linda’s house. She returned the package—opened, of course—with my ornament inside.

That was it. If Linda loved stealing my packages, I’d give her one she’d never forget.

I ordered a glitter bomb. The kit came with a spring-loaded mechanism that would send glitter everywhere when opened. I added a note: “If you’re reading this, you’re a thief. Next time, I’ll call the police. Happy holidays!”

Wrapped in festive paper, I left it on my porch, waiting.

Sure enough, that evening Linda swiped the package. The next morning, I heard screaming. I peeked out and saw Linda covered in glitter—her hair, clothes, everything covered in sparkles. She was shaking the box, trying to get it off, but it stuck to everything.

She stormed to my door, glitter-covered and furious. “HOW DARE YOU!” she yelled.

“Oh, Linda,” I smiled sweetly. “Did you accidentally take my package again?”

“You think this is funny?” she spat.

“Funny? No. Satisfying? Absolutely,” I replied. “If you don’t want surprises like this, maybe stop stealing my packages.”

She was speechless. Then, she stormed off.

Word spread quickly in the neighborhood. Turns out, I wasn’t the only one Linda had been targeting. After my glitter stunt, others came forward with similar stories. Linda tried to lay low, but every time she left her house, there were glitter flecks in her hair.

I haven’t had a single package go missing since. Sometimes, a little sparkle is all it takes to set things right. Happy holidays indeed.