John was sitting on the living room sofa, guitar in hand, trying to tune the strings. Julian was running around the room with an improvised cape made out of a sheet, yelling that he was a superhero. Heather, meanwhile, was on the floor surrounded by crayons, scribbling something that looked like a portrait of John with bunny ears. However, you were the most mischievous of all. You had taken John’s guitar while he wasn’t looking, and in a clumsy attempt to “play,” you had broken two strings.

“Paul, for God’s sake!” John exclaimed, though Paul wasn’t there to hear his desperation. “Come back before I lose it!”

Heather looked up from her masterpiece. “Why are you yelling, Daddy?”

“Because your brother has destroyed my guitar,” John responded in an exasperated tone as he tried to untangle the mess of strings. “And where the hell is Paul? ‘It’ll just be a moment,’ he said.”

At that moment, you climbed onto the coffee table, imitating Elvis and singing a strange hybrid of “Jailhouse Rock” and “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.” Julian followed, jumping from one piece of furniture to another.

Just as John was about to lose his patience, the front door opened, and Paul walked in, carrying grocery bags. A smile crossed his face as he took in the scene: John disheveled and exhausted, you leading a children’s rebellion, and Heather proudly showing off her drawing.

“What the hell happened here?” Paul asked, setting the bags on the table.

John shot him a glare. “This, Paul! This is what happens when you leave me with three kids on the brink of revolution.”

Paul walked over and took the guitar from John’s hands, examining the broken strings. “Well, love, I think someone wants to be a musician like you.”

“Musician?” John scoffed. “He’s destroying my masterpiece!”

Paul let out a light laugh, ignoring his husband’s frustration as he picked up Heather to sit her on the table. “You drew your Daddy, didn’t you?” he asked, showing the drawing to John. “Look, gave you bunny ears.”