I thought it wouldn’t be a problem to leave my spouse with the kids for a week. I returned home to find my sons sleeping on the chilly, unclean hallway floor.
Heart fell. Something was odd. Was there fire? A flood? My hubby would have said no.
Turning off the light, I cautiously walked over the lads and entered the home.
Entering our bedroom was vacant. My hubby left at midnight? That’s odd.
I then checked the boys’ room, expecting the worst.
The sounds were muted as I neared. I quietly opened the door to observe what was going on without turning on the light. I gasped when I saw Mark with headphones on and a controller surrounded by empty energy drink cans and food wrappers in a low light. Not the craziest part.
Gamer utopia had been created in the room. A huge TV filled up one wall, LED lights were everywhere, and I think the corner monster was a mini-fridge.
Mark wasn’t paying attention to me since he was too into his game.
I removed his headphones. “Mark! What the heck is happening?
He glanced at me, “Hi babe. You arrived early.”
“Early? Midnight! Why do our kids sleep on the floor?
He grabbed his controller. Oh, no problem. The boys enjoyed sleeping outdoors. They considered it adventurous.”
I stole the controller. An adventure? Mark, they’re not camping! “They sleep on our dirty hallway floor!”
He tried to get the controller back, saying, “Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill.” The situation is under control. I fed them and stuff.”
Feeding them? Pizza boxes and ice cream in the living room? Every phrase raised my blood pressure. What about baths? Or their actual beds?”
Rolling his eyes, Mark. Sarah, they’re OK. Lighten up.”
Then I went crazy.
“Light up?” Lighten up? Our kids sleep on the floor like animals while you play video games in their room! Your problem?
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he huffed. I want some alone time. Is it so bad?
I tried not to scream. “You know? We’re not doing this. Put the boys to bed. Now.”
However, I’m in the middle—
“Now, Mark!”
Grumbling, he stood and shuffled passed me.
Alex’s grimy face broke my heart as I picked him up. I decided as I put him to bed. I would treat Mark like a kid if he wanted to.
My plan went into effect the next morning.
I sneaked into Mark’s man cave and disconnected everything during his shower. Then I worked.
I greeted him downstairs with a huge grin. Good morning, sweetheart! I prepared breakfast!”
He regarded me curiously. “Thanks?”
I presented him with a fruit-smiley Mickey Mouse pancake. A sippy cup held his coffee.
“What’s this?” he poked the pancake.
“Your breakfast, silly! We have a huge day, so eat up!”
My large, colorful task sheet on the fridge was my masterwork after breakfast. “Look what I made for you!”
Mark’s eyes expanded. “What the hell?”
“Language!” Scolded. “Your own chore chart! See? Clean your room, wash the dishes, and put away your toys to get gold stars!
“My toys?” Sarah—what are you?
Cut him off. Do not forget! We changed our home rule. Shut off screens by 9 p.m. That includes your phone, man!”
Mark’s expression became bewildered to enraged. “You kidding me? Grown guy, I don’t need—
“Oh, ah!” Waving my finger. No arguing or you’ll go to timeout!
I persisted the next week. Each night at 9, I turned off Wi-Fi and unplugged his game system.
I put him to bed with milk and read him “Goodnight Moon” in my soothing voice.
He ate on plastic plates with little partitions. I made dinosaur sandwiches and animal crackers for him. I told him, “Use your words, honey,” when he protested. Big lads don’t complain.”
The chore chart was contentious. Every time he finished a job, I gave him a large gold star.
Look at you, putting away your clothing alone! My mom’s proud!”
He grumbled, “I’m not a child, Sarah.”
I said, “Of course not, sweetie. Anyone want to bake cookies?
My experiment broke down after a week. Mark had been sent to the timeout corner for yelling about his two-hour screen time restriction. He sat furious as I set the kitchen timer.
“This is ridiculous!” he shouted. God, I’m a grown man!
Raised eyebrow. “Oh? Are you sure? Because adult men don’t let their kids lie on the floor to play video games all night.”
He sagged. Okay, I understand! Sorry!”
I regarded him. Even though he seemed sorry, I wouldn’t let him off the hook when I had one more blow.
“Oh, I accept your apology,” I answered pleasantly. “But I called your mom…”
The color left his face. “You didn’t.”
A knock at the door came on time. Opening it revealed Mark’s mother, looking every bit unhappy.
She marched inside the home shouting “Mark!” “Did you really make my sweeties sleep on the floor for your games?”
Mark seems to want the floor to devour him. Mom, it’s not… I did not…
Her expression softened as she faced me. “Oh, Sarah, I’m sorry you had to deal with this. I thought I raised him better.”
Patted her arm. “It’s not your fault, Linda. Some lads grow up slower.”
Beet red was Mark’s face. Mom, please. My age is 35!”
Linda ignored him and faced me. Do not worry. My schedule is clean for next week. I’ll mold this guy quickly!”
I caught Mark’s eye as Linda ran to the kitchen, complaining about the dishes. He looked hopeless.
“Sarah,” he whispered. I’m sorry. I was careless and selfish. It won’t repeat.”
I softened. “I know, honey. I need to know you’re in charge while I’m gone. Boys need fathers, not playmates.”
Nodding, he looked embarrassed. You’re correct. I pledge to improve.”
I grinned and kissed him. Yes, you will. Why not assist your mother wash dishes? If you perform well, we could have ice cream for dessert.”
I felt triumphant as Mark walked to the kitchen. I hope I learnt. In case of failure, I had a timeout corner ready.
