I had been away on business for a week, and while I love my job, I missed my family like crazy. Tommy and Alex, my two wild and wonderful boys, were probably bouncing off the walls waiting for me to come home. And Mark? Well, I figured he’d be relieved to have me back. Parenting is no easy feat, and while Mark is great with the kids, he’s always been more of the fun parent than the one keeping everything in check.

I finally pulled into our driveway around midnight, exhausted but excited to be home. The house was dark and quiet—just as it should be. I tiptoed inside, hoping to sneak into bed without waking anyone. But something wasn’t right.

As I moved through the hallway, my foot brushed against something soft. I flipped on the light and saw them—Tommy and Alex—fast asleep on the cold hallway floor, tangled in their blankets. Their faces were dirty, and their hair was a mess. My heart skipped a beat. Why were my children sleeping on the floor?

Was there an emergency? A fire? I crept past them, hoping not to wake them, and hurried to the living room. It looked like a bomb had gone off—pizza boxes, soda cans, and melted ice cream everywhere. But still, no sign of Mark.

I rushed to our bedroom, expecting to find him there. But the bed was still made, untouched. His car was in the driveway, so where was he? That’s when I heard it—the sound of a video game coming from the boys’ room.

I pushed open the door and found Mark, headphones on, gaming away in what had once been our sons’ bedroom. The room had been completely transformed into a gamer’s paradise—huge TV, LED lights, a mini-fridge—the works. He hadn’t even noticed I was home.

I was speechless. My kids were sleeping on the floor, and Mark was living out his gamer fantasy in their room. Furious doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt.