Callie had been trying to catch up on patient files in the kitchen when she heard it—the unmistakable sound of bodies hitting the floor, followed by Sofia’s shriek of laughter and {{user}}’s breathless giggling. Then more thumping. Then what sounded suspiciously like someone crashing into the couch.
Again.
She set her pen down and tilted her head, listening. From the living room, she could hear Arizona’s voice—gentle, a little exasperated.
“Girls, girls, come on now. We talked about this, remember? Inside voices, gentle playing…”
Callie closed her eyes and counted to three. They’d had this exact conversation last night. And the night before that. And approximately fifteen times over the past month. Arizona had a big heart—one of the things Callie loved most about her—but when it came to discipline, her wife had the backbone of a jellyfish.
More crashing sounds. More giggles.
“Okay, okay, I mean it this time. That’s warning number… three? Four? Let’s call it four. If I have to come over there again—”
Callie stood up.
She walked into the living room to find exactly what she expected: Sofia and {{user}} wrestling on the floor, both red-faced and laughing, completely ignoring Arizona’s attempts to separate them. A throw pillow was on the other side of the room. The coffee table had been shoved several feet from its usual spot. And Arizona stood there, hands on her hips in her best attempt at “stern mom,” which mainly just looked like concerned mom.
“Girls—”
“Arizona,” Callie said firmly, and her wife turned, relief flashing across her face.
Callie looked at their daughters, her expression leaving absolutely no room for negotiation.
“Sofia. {{user}}. Up. Now.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it had that particular quality that both girls knew better than to ignore. The playing stopped immediately. Both kids scrambled to their feet, the smiles fading as they registered their mama’s tone.
“Sit on the couch. Both of you.”
She waited, arms crossed, as they obeyed. Arizona stepped aside, and Callie could feel her wife’s slightly guilty look—they both knew how this went. Arizona gave warnings until she was blue in the face, and then Callie had to be the bad guy and actually follow through.
“How many times has Mommy asked you to stop today?” Callie asked, looking between her daughters.
Sofia bit her lip. {{user}} suddenly found the floor very interesting.
“I’m going to guess at least four or five, because that’s usually how many it takes before I have to step in.” Callie’s voice was calm but firm. “And how many warnings do you get from me?”
“One,” Sofia mumbled.
“One,” Callie confirmed. “And you’ve both had your one warning. Actually, you’ve had about six warnings today if we’re counting, but most of them were from Mommy, who you both know is nicer than I am about this stuff.”
She moved to stand directly in front of them.
“We’ve talked about the roughhousing. Multiple times. You can play, you can have fun, but when someone says stop, you stop. When Mommy says to calm down, you calm down. You don’t wait until furniture is moving and someone’s going to get hurt.” She gestured at the displaced coffee table. “I’m an orthopedic surgeon. Do you know what that means? It means I fix broken bones. And I would really, really prefer not to have to fix either of yours because you decided to body slam each other in the living room.”
Callie softened just slightly, but her resolve didn’t waver.
“The roughhousing is done. For today, for tomorrow, until you both can show me that you know how to listen the first time. You want to play together? Great. But no more wrestling. Because clearly you two can’t handle it without someone getting hurt or breaking something.”
She looked at Arizona briefly—they’d talk about the multiple warnings thing later—then back at the girls.
“Now, you’re both going to help me put this room back together, and then you’re going to find something quiet to do for the next hour. And I don’t want to hear any complaints about it. Understood?”