When he came downstairs, 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 of Mickey Mouse-shaped pancake with a smiley face made of fruit in front of him. 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 following week, I stuck to my guns. Every night at 9, I’d shut off the Wi-Fi and unplug his gaming console.
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