I Came Home to Find My Kids Sleeping in the Hallway — What My Husband Turned Their Bedroom into While I Was Away Made Me Feral sbl

“Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill,” he said, trying to grab the controller back. “Everything’s under control. I’ve been feeding them and stuff.”

“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 lost it.

“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 took a deep breath, trying 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 watched him pick up Tommy, who stirred a little but didn’t wake up. As Mark carried him to bed, I couldn’t help but think how alike they looked: one actual child and the man acting like one.

I scooped up Alex, my heart breaking a little 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 next morning, I put my plan into action.

While Mark was in the shower, I snuck into the man cave he’d created and unplugged everything. Then I got to work.

When he came downstairs, hair still wet, I was waiting for him with a big smile. “Good morning, sweetie! I made you breakfast!”

He looked at me suspiciously. “Uh, thanks?”

I set a plate in front of him. In the middle was a Mickey Mouse-shaped pancake with a smiley face made of fruit. His coffee was in a sippy cup.

“What’s this?” he asked, poking at the pancake.

“It’s your breakfast, silly! Now eat up, we have a big day ahead of us!”

After breakfast, I unveiled my masterpiece, a giant, colorful chore chart plastered on the fridge. “Look what I made for you!”

Mark’s eyes widened. “What the hell is that?”

“Language!” I scolded. “It’s your very own chore chart! See? You can earn gold stars for cleaning your room, doing the dishes, and putting away your toys!”

“My toys? Sarah, what are you—”

I cut him off. “Oh, and don’t forget! We have a new house rule. All screens off by 9 p.m. sharp. That includes your phone, mister!”

Mark’s face went from confused to angry. “Are you kidding me? I’m a grown man, I don’t need—”

“Ah, ah, ah!” I wagged my finger. “No arguing, or you’ll have to go to the timeout corner!”

For the next week, I stuck to my guns. Every night at 9, I’d shut off the Wi-Fi and unplug his gaming console.