After returning from a week away, I was greeted by a distressing sight: my kids, Tommy and Alex, sound asleep on the cold hallway floor. Panic set in as I searched for my husband, Mark, only to discover unusual noises coming from the boys’ room. What I found next was infuriating and left me ready for a confrontation.
I had been looking forward to coming home after a long business trip. Tommy and Alex, my energetic little ones, were probably thrilled to see me. Mark, their loving but often “fun” parent, was likely relieved to hand back the responsibilities.
Arriving home at midnight, the house was unusually quiet. I unlocked the front door and was eager to settle in. But something felt off.
I felt something soft under my foot and froze. My heart raced as I flicked on the light. There they were—Tommy and Alex—curled up on the floor with blankets, dirt on their faces, and their hair in disarray.
“What’s going on?” I whispered, confused and worried. Why weren’t they in their beds? What had happened while I was away?
I tiptoed past them and into the living room, which was a mess of pizza boxes, soda cans, and melted ice cream. Mark was nowhere to be found.
I dashed to our bedroom. It was empty and neat, untouched. His car was in the driveway, but where was he?
A muffled noise from the boys’ room caught my attention. Was Mark in trouble? Had something gone wrong?
I cautiously opened the door and was stunned by the sight. Mark was deeply engrossed in a video game, headphones on, surrounded by empty energy drink cans and snack wrappers. The boys’ room had been turned into a gamer’s paradise—LED lights, a massive TV, and a mini-fridge.
Anger surged through me. He hadn’t even noticed I was home, lost in his game.
Without a word, I yanked his headphones off. “Mark! What is going on here?”
He looked up, dazed. “Oh, hey babe. You’re back early.”
“Early? It’s midnight! Why are the kids sleeping on the floor?”
“They thought it was an adventure,” Mark shrugged, reaching for his controller.
“An adventure? They’re not camping; they’re sleeping on the dirty floor while you play games!” I snapped.
Mark rolled his eyes. “You’re overreacting. I fed them and they had fun. Lighten up.”
“Fed them? You mean with pizza and ice cream? What about baths and their beds?” I was furious.
“Sarah, relax,” he sighed. “They’re fine.”
I was done with his excuses.
“Relax? Our children are on the floor while you turn their room into a game zone. What’s wrong with you?”
Mark huffed, “I’m just having some me-time. Is that so bad?”
I took a deep breath, determined to stay calm. “We’re not doing this now. Put the kids in their beds. Now.”
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