“I want to watch tv.”
“I want to play video games.”
The kids spoke over each other, and she shrugged, “well, I don’t like the yelling. Sort it out and if you can’t come to a compromise, leave the devices off and go find something else to do.”
“Mom, it’s not fair. Ollie gets everything she wants!” Max stomped his feet and threw the remote control for the television across the room.
“Pick it up,” Bobbie pointed to the item he’d thrown, and he folded his arms over his chest and stared back. “Jesus Christ, I birthed his bloody clone,” she muttered as he took a stance she knew far too well. “Max, do not make me repeat myself.” She was trying not to raise her voice, but she was ready to lose her s**t. Four full days of temper and anger issues from the child who was normally the calm one was
