My week away from home felt like an eternity. I was eager to reunite with my boys, who had been in the care of their dad while I was out of town.

My husband is truly wonderful, but when it comes to our children, he’s the fun parent whereas I’m typically the one ensuring the house rules are followed. However, I was confident he’d do a fantastic job keeping them well-fed and happy.

When I finally got home, I made sure not to wake Tommy and Alex. I tiptoed inside, with my keys jingling softly in my hand.

Just as I reached the hallway, I stumbled over something soft. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly reached for the light switch. The moment the lights flickered on, I almost collapsed.

My boys were sleeping in the middle of the hallway.

With smudges on their faces and hair tousled every which way, they were enveloped in blankets, looking like little puppies.

“What on earth is going on?” I wondered, tentatively stepping toward the living room.

Initially, I panicked. I thought there might have been a fire, a gas leak, or even a burglary, but upon seeing the living room’s disarray, I understood it was all Mark’s doing. Pizza boxes and soda cans littered the room. Melted ice cream ran down the coffee table, and my husband, Mark, was nowhere to be found.

The bedroom stood untouched, as though no one had slept there.

Then, I heard curious noises emanating from the children’s room. My mind conjured various scenarios as I hesitantly approached the door.

To my disbelief, there was Mark, holding a game controller, headphones on, surrounded by energy drinks. He had transformed the kids’ room into a gaming paradise, with a massive TV mounted on the wall and LED lights illuminating every corner of his “man cave.”

Mark was so engrossed in his game that he didn’t even notice I was there.

A sense of indignation boiled within me like a volcano ready to explode.

“Mark, what is going on? Have you lost your mind?” I shouted.

He looked startled. “Oh, honey, you’re home early,” he responded.

“Early!? It’s almost midnight!” I scolded, attempting to keep my voice down so as not to wake the children.

“Why are Tommy and Alex sleeping in the hallway?” I pressed, my anger evident.

“Sweetheart, don’t fret about the boys. They wanted a little adventure, so they decided to camp out there,” he explained, sounding absurd

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Mark. Do you even hear yourself?” I questioned, attempting to comprehend his flimsy logic.

“Everything’s under control. They’ve been fed and all,” he assured.

“Fed with what? Pizza and soda!? I thought you knew better, Mark,” I said, my voice trembling with frustration.

That’s when I realized I’d had enough.

“Get the kids to bed! Right now!” I demanded. “Aren’t you ashamed? They’re sleeping like animals in the hallway while you’re getting lost in your games.”

I tried to snatch the controller, but Mark clung to it. “I’m in the middle of a game, Sarah, let them be—that’s what they wanted. Plus, I needed some downtime, don’t you get it?”

Finally, I pried the controller from his grasp and insisted he tuck the kids into their beds.

I couldn’t help but notice how dirty their faces were, and felt a pang of remorse for the week they probably hadn’t had baths. My poor boys.

And there I was, balancing care for two boys and a husband acting like one.

Once the boys were safely in bed, I retreated for a shower, choosing to avoid further conflict with Mark that night.

The next morning, I devised a plan to make him understand the gravity of his actions.

He entered the kitchen, and I cheerfully greeted him with an exaggerated grin. “Good morning, darling,” I began, “here’s your breakfast.”

He looked puzzled, anticipating my ire, but I had something else in mind—teaching him a lesson.

I handed him pancakes adorned with smiley faces, plated on a Mickey Mouse dish. He realized something was up.

After breakfast, I introduced Mark to a chore chart brightly displayed on the fridge. “Look what I’ve prepared for you,” I said, “You’ll earn a gold star for each task you complete, like doing dishes or tidying your toys.”

“My toys? Sarah, what are…”

Before he finished, I interrupted, “And from now on, screens off by 9 pm—is the new rule.”

For a week, I turned off the Wi-Fi at 9 pm, leaving Mark visibly irritated.

Meals became dinosaur-shaped sandwiches and snacks served on children’s plates. Since he chose to play like a child, I was treating him like one.

Whenever he completed a chore, I would laud him with overt enthusiasm and award him a gold star. “Great job, darling, mommy’s very proud,” I’d say, grinning widely.

Mark quickly understood the folly of letting our sons sleep in the hallway, visibly regretting the choice throughout that week.

“Sarah, I’m truly sorry. I see I messed up. It won’t happen again,” he confessed, looking worn down.

I could see his sincerity and forgave him, reminding him of his role as their father and not just another playmate.

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