The anxiety mounts with every shriek I hear. The hairs on the back of my neck stand and this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach makes me ill. I race to the garage which the intention of jumping in my car on a one way trip anywhere. Anywhere but here. The noise levels increase as I walk back into the house expecting silence but it’s worse. Much worse. I decide to raise the volume on the television to help drown out the whines and moans. It is of no use. They are restless, and will not stop until I do something about it. I dash down the hallway and push through the door like a police officer on a drug bust. I bellow in the deepest voice I can muster, “Go to bed! Stop this screaming and fighting.” I slam my hands against the wall and shut the lights, next they lose the television, and finally the tablets. Kids, and their sleepovers. It’s going to be a long night.
Tales in a Paragraph VI