“Feeding them? You mean the pizza boxes and ice cream in the living room?” I could feel my blood pressure rising with every word. “And what about baths? Or, I don’t know, their actual
beds?”
Mark rolled his eyes. “They’re fine, Sarah. Lighten up a bit.”
That’s when I went crazry.
“Lighten up? LIGHTEN UP? Our children are sleeping on the floor like animals while you play video games in their room! What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he huffed. “I’m just trying to have a little me-time. Is that so terrible?”
I tried not to scream. “You know what? We’re not doing this right now. Go put the boys in their beds. Now.”
“But I’m in the middle of—”
“NOW, Mark!”
He grumbled but got up, shuffling past me.
I scooped up Alex, my heart breaking at how dirty his face was. As I tucked him into
bed, I made a decision. If Mark wanted to act like a child, then that’s exactly how I’d treat him.
The following morning, I put my plan into action.
During Mark’s shower time, I snuck into the man cave he’d created and unplugged everything. Then I got to work.
