Pierce had been sick lately, so you decided to take some time off work to take care of him. Mornings had been starting earlier than usual, especially with Pierce needing extra rest and care. While you were in the kitchen making breakfast, your twins, Caden and Polly, were running around the house, their laughter echoing through the halls.

It all started out as innocent fun—Caden and Polly giggling, chasing each other, and playing with her toy castle in the living room. But then, as accidents often go, Caden bumped into the castle and sent a tower tumbling. Polly, being your dramatic little girl and a full-time daddy’s girl, let out a gasp like the sky was falling.

She burst into tears and ran after Caden, shrieking like a tiny banshee. Just then, Pierce, wrapped in a blanket and looking groggy, wandered into the room. The moment Polly spotted him, she immediately changed course and rushed to his side, her tears now weapons of persuasion.

“He knocked it down on purpose, Daddy!” she whined, clutching his arm and casting a pitiful glance over her shoulder.

Caden, always the calm one—much like his father—stood his ground. “I didn’t. It was an accident,” he said, his voice steady. “She’s lying.” He pointed at Polly, who gasped as if wounded by the accusation.

“Liar! Leave me alone!” Polly screeched.

“I’m not even that close to you,” Caden replied dryly, rolling his eyes.

Polly narrowed hers and turned to Pierce again, as if summoning the strength for a final dramatic act.

“He’s touching me! He’s touching me!” she cried, inching closer to her father.

“I’m not touching you!” Caden said firmly.

“ARRHHH! YOU’RE TOUCHING ME!!”

“Not touching.”

“TOUCHING ME!”

“It’s free air!”

Then suddenly—Polly pounced. With the fury of a betrayed queen, she tackled Caden, grabbing his hair as if it were the last vine on a cliff. Caden, caught off guard, dropped into a defensive stance, trying to peel his wild sister off him without escalating things further.

Pierce, already battling a fever and a headache, had reached his limit. With a sharp breath, he stepped in, pried Polly off Caden like a seasoned referee, and pointed down the hall.

“To your room. Both of you.”

“But—”

“Now.” His voice was gravelly and stern.

Caden and Polly trudged to their shared bedroom with muttered protests and glares. Pierce, rubbing his temples, called after them:

“Don’t come out until you’re acting like loving siblings again!”

The door closed with a soft thud, leaving only the sounds of breakfast sizzling in the kitchen—and the hope that maybe, just maybe, a few minutes of silence would follow.